The Precious Prince
by PinguThePenguin
Summary: The Prince of Erebor, Frodo, was born under the influence of The One Ring, so he must keep it with him all his life to stay alive. But what happens when there is revenge to be taken by the one who had it stolen from him? As a baby, Frodo is kidnapped, and after so many years of confinement, he longs for adventure. Thilbo, Sam/Frodo. sequel to Bilbo Baggins and the Thirteen Dwarves.
1. The Ring of Power

**Author's Note:** I'm finally done with the first chapter! :D It felt like it took forever for this to get out, but I finally did it!

And yes, the beginning will be dragged out a bit. Sorry if this first chapter is boring or depressing in any way. I tried.  
Please enjoy!

* * *

Thorin was pacing furiously. He had been restless all week. Gandalf was taking too long to arrive! He had been summoned a week ago, and he still hadn't arrived! Thorin was close to a breaking point. He was growing angry and anxious and paranoid and he couldn't take it anymore! The worry was eating away at his brain and stomach, making him nauseous. It was a horrible feeling, and Thorin just wanted it to stop.

"T-Thorin?" Bilbo called weakly from their bed across the room.

Thorin went to him immediately, forgetting his worry in an instant after hearing his heavily pregnant husband's broken voice. "What's wrong, Bilbo?" he asked, placing a hand on Bilbo's swollen belly. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Bilbo laughed weakly, but it ended in a rough cough. "T-Thorin… you m-must stop worrying." He smiled as he placed a hand on Thorin's cheek. "I will be fine… I promise…" his shaking hand was so weak, he couldn't hold it up anymore, and dropped back to his side.

Thorin watched as Bilbo's eyes closed from exhaustion, and his fists clenched. His husband could be dying, and Gandalf was nowhere to be found! Bilbo had been sick all week. He couldn't get out of bed, he was wheezing half the time he was breathing, he coughed when he talked, and his voice was hoarse. It was torture to see him like this, for Thorin, and everyone else in Erebor for that matter. Word had spread around the mountain, and even through the streets of Dale, that the Royal Consort to the King Under the Mountain had become strictly bed-ridden. The news had traveled even further, and reached Laketown, were Bard resided. He was so worried, he had left immediately to visit his old friend.

Weeks had passed since almost the whole of the region heard the horrible news. Thorin had finally had enough of the worries and anxieties and called for Gandalf once more, but he still had not arrived. The wizard said he would be available if they ever needed him, but Thorin was beginning to lose hope. In fact, he had started to lose hope when Bilbo started showing signs of sickness. It was enough to make him want to rip his long, dark hair out.

It was not until Bilbo's last month of pregnancy that Gandalf had finally reached Erebor. He apologized to the seething King profusely, saying that he had been caught up in business, but Thorin waved it off with a grunt and hurried him off to see Bilbo. It didn't matter to him anymore that the wizard was late, it only mattered that he had finally come.

Gandalf was shocked at the sight of the hobbit. He looked the same as he had when Gandalf first saw him months ago, but this time he looked worse. And his belly was protruding grandly. He was definitely going to be giving birth soon, that much was sure. But he shouldn't be feeling so sick. "I will have to look him over myself." Gandalf had said, shooing all the healers and family out the door. "It will, hopefully, only be a moment… but I'm not sure if it will…" he stared off, as if in a trance, then immediately broke out of it, and slammed the chamber doors, leaving all the dwarves out in the hall.

Thorin found that he couldn't even bring himself to pace, he was so worried. He didn't want to move until he knew that Bilbo would be safe. He didn't want to speak until he could speak to Bilbo. He wanted everything to be fine. He had inwardly been hoping all month that Bilbo's sickness-like state was merely a stage of pregnancy, but when he thought back to his sister, she had never felt _that _sick. She only threw-up all the time, and occasionally had large mood swings. _Very_ large mood swings. Thorin shuddered at the memory.

His worry-induced trance was broken after a few moments, when he felt someone's presence approach him. It had turned out to be Dis. She was gazing down at him concernedly, as if she didn't know why Thorin was acting broody for the first time in months. She sighed when Thorin didn't speak, and plopped ungracefully down on the floor next to him. "He'll be ok." Was all she said as she placed a hand on her brother's shoulder. But Thorin did not reply. And Dis had nothing left to say.

An hour had passed. Fili and Kili had fallen asleep on each other, having been sleep-deprived as of late, staying up with Bilbo and Thorin when Bilbo couldn't fall asleep. But even when Bilbo and his nephews finally drifted off, Thorin would stay awake even longer, with a hand on Bilbo's large stomach, and found himself thinking about his child. He would smile fondly every time he thought on it. But now, the thought only brought fear and worry for his husband _and_ his child.

Two hours was when Dis finally left the hall, claiming that she would return later. She left her sons on the floor. She knew they would not want to leave.

Three hours drifted past and Fili and Kili woke once again. They would have asked if Gandalf was done examining Bilbo, but their Uncle's grave expression was enough to tell them that he wasn't. Without words, they went over to him, and hugged him on each side. To their surprise, he hugged them back.

Four hours, and Thorin wanted to burst through the doors and stay with Bilbo, no matter what that damn old wizard said! Maybe Gandalf had simply fallen asleep, and Bilbo was too weak to wake him up. Thorin shook off his nephews from his sides, stood, and strode to the door. He paused in front of it. His heart pounded. He knocked a large fist on the door, the sound echoing through the empty halls, and waited. Fili and Kili had moved up behind him, visibly shaking with concern.

The door opened only a crack, and Gandalf's eye peeked out at the dwarves. Apparently, the wizard had been strictly tense, because at the sight of them, he visibly relaxed, and opened the door further to reveal himself fully. But he wasn't smiling. He wasn't his usual self. Instead, he was very grave, making him look even older than he already was. "Come in, quickly." Gandalf stepped aside and allowed the dwarves in. They immediately ran over to Bilbo who was looking very pained.

But the pain in his expression faded as he saw his family enter the room. "Hello…" he said reaching a hand out to them, as if to call them closer. Thorin took the proffered hand and held it dearly to his chest. He was kneeling at Bilbo's side, and was using his free hand to rub Bilbo's large bump gently, soothingly. Bilbo smiled at him, and then closed his eyes in peace.

"I was originally going to call only you, Thorin." Gandalf spoke again. "But I see your nephews have been worrying as much as you have." He smiled for a brief second, but it didn't last long. "I am afraid I have some very bad and unsettling news."

Thorin had expected it, honestly. He heaved a shuddering sigh, tightening his grip on Bilbo's hand, but his other hadn't stopped the motions on his belly. "What is happening to him?" he spoke quietly, cautious of what he might say if he spoke louder.

Gandalf crossed over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Bilbo, I'm afraid, is very ill." Thorin resisted rolling his eyes at the wizard's power to state the obvious. "I know not of the specific illness that distresses him, but I can see that…" he paused for a deafening moment. "if not taken care of soon… the result… could be fatal."

Thorin's world came crashing down around him. Everything turned black. He could see nothing but the hobbit lying before him, breathing heavily yet unsteadily on the bed. It wasn't fair. Bilbo deserved no such fate as death. Especially with a babe on the way. He knew Bilbo would want to live to see his child. He would want to know it was safe, and happy, and full of life, just like himself. He knew. They had discussed it before.

========Flashback=========

_Thorin laid with Bilbo in their bed, lying against the headboard while Bilbo sat in his lap, leaning back on his broad chest and staring down at his bump with a small smile. "I wonder…" Bilbo broke the silence, moving to place a hand on his middle. "What do you think it will be? A girl or a boy?" _

_Thorin smiled into Bilbo's hair, and tightened his hold around Bilbo's waist, wrapping his arms fully around the hobbit. "I know not." He spoke quietly, afraid that if he didn't the peace of the moment would shatter. "But I do know that I wouldn't care which one it would turn out to be."_

_The silence continued for a moment more, before Bilbo spoke again. "I think… I think it will have your eyes." He stated._

"_Oh really?" Thorin chuckled, leaning down further to rest his head on the hobbit's shoulder. "And what will it have of yours?" he asked, teasingly. "Because I think…" he placed his hand over Bilbo's. "that it will have your hair, and your intelligence… and your kindness." His smile grew when Bilbo laughed._

"_Then it shall have your sense for adventure." Bilbo twisted his head to grin at his husband. "And possibly your stubborn attitude." He further teased._

"_Well, if it has all that, then it might as well have your love for all things living." Thorin returned, staring down at Bilbo's middle, as if his child was already there. _

"_Ah," Bilbo held a finger to Thorin's face. "But don't forget, it will also be courageous when he needs to be." _

_Thorin laughed, as did Bilbo, and they returned to their original position. "Perhaps we are thinking too much into this." Thorin sighed, stroking Bilbo's curls in one hand. _

"_Possibly." Bilbo replied, and he looked to be thinking very hard on the subject. "To be honest… I don't care what it's like when it arrives… I only care that it loves us, and it is safe from harm, and that if I can, I can protect it at any cost." He stared ahead of him. "I don't want anything to happen to it. It has not even been born yet… but I find myself loving it more and more every day." _

_Thorin sat for a while, staring at Bilbo fondly. He knew the feeling the Bilbo felt. He had felt that way himself when his nephews were born, and now his child was to be born soon, and he felt that emotion come flowing back into his heart. He wanted to protect his husband and his child for everything it was worth. He would do anything for them, even if it meant jumping off his own mountain and skewering himself on the sharp rocks below. His grip around Bilbo tightened. "I know the feeling. But nothing will happen to it, as long as we are there to watch over it." Was all that he put into words. _

_And the night had carried on silently, until the couple found sleep, and dreamt together._

End Flashback======

"Can anything be done?" Thorin asked the wizard, sounding eerily calm.

Gandalf sighed heavily and moved to sit next to the large window next to the bed, near where Fili and Kili were perched with tears in their eyes. "I tried many solutions." The wizard began, solemnly. "There was a spell I know, but it will not work properly on hobbits. There were herbs I made," he outstretched a hand to the table in the far corner that was covered in bottles and potion ingredients. "but none of them seemed fit to the task of making him well again."

"…Would the elves have something?" Fili spoke up suddenly.

Thorin growled for a fraction of a second, but relented when he heard Bilbo whimper and shift his head on the pillow in discomfort. Thorin realized that help from the elves would be a very good idea, if it was in the case of saving Bilbo's life.

But Gandalf shook his head slowly. "I have also looked through the Elven books of healing I found, but the only concoctions they spoke of were things to reduce the pain. Those were all I could give him." he watched as Bilbo shifted again, then remain still. "I believe there is only one thing that we can do for him, but it will be very difficult."

Thorin was so surprised that he managed to pull his eyes away from his consort to stare at the wizard, with a small gleam of hope in his deep, blue eyes. "Well, what is it?" he demanded, more harsh than he meant to sound. "Whatever the difficulty, I will do it! I will do anything!"

Gandalf sighed and stood from his seat. "Well, let me start by explaining his illness." Thorin rolled his eyes. He didn't care why Bilbo was sick, he just wanted Bilbo to get better! "You see," the wizard continued. "even though male hobbits can bear young, it is very rare when it happens. Most hobbits find themselves falling for the opposite sex. But when they don't and decide to have a child… well… the bearer does not usually make it through the birth…"

Thorin stared. He could form no words. He looked down at Bilbo, to see his eyes open, tears falling freely from them. "I'm sorry, Thorin…" he croaked out with a broken voice. "I didn't want to tell you… I knew you wouldn't want to have one anymore…" his hand pulled from Thorin's grip and went to rest, instead, on Thorin's cheek. "I know you are probably angry but… I wanted this so bad…" Bilbo cried harder, and Thorin recognized the tears as ones of sadness, not joy. "Oh lord…" Bilbo moaned bringing his hand to cover his face and wipe his tears. "I will never see our child grow! I'll never hear it talk, or see it walk, or even see… if it has your eyes…" he finished despairingly.

Thorin immediately leaned over Bilbo and kissed all the free tears away. "I forgive you, dear one." He murmured through his own quavering voice. "And you are right in saying that I would not have wanted to risk your life. But now that I have no choice, I will do everything I can to save you!" his body grew tense, but he continued to cuddle Bilbo ever closer to him.

Gandalf smiled at the scene, but decided to ruin the moment continuing to talk about depressing things. "The male hobbits usually die a few minutes after giving birth," Bilbo choked on a sob. "and the other male is forced to become a widow. But," he paused to make sure Thorin was paying attention. "There is, however, one thing that could save him. It is called the Ring of Power."

"The Ring of Power?" Kili asked, slightly confused. "What does it do?"

"It gives its master, whoever it may be, unlimited power. But the catch is that each person will have a different set of powers based on their personalities and, or, life aspirations. For example," he cleared his throat in a business-like manner. "if your life aspiration was to own a bakery, then the ring would give you insurmountable baking skills, and possibly a skill with arithmetic, for number dealings and such. And if you were a vile and unfavorable person, the ring would give you multiple powers that would help you take those around you down on their knees before you. It is a very dangerous ring, but also a very good one. For if Bilbo were to wear the ring on a chain around his neck and keep it with him until after having the child, then he would be safe, and could take it off once the babe has been born."

The dwarves and Bilbo were delighted. Bilbo was smiling through his thick tears, glad that there was a possibility of him someday meeting his child. Fili and Kili were whooping with happiness, jumping all over the place, having a celebration of their own. Thorin, however, was still tense and cautious, despite being greatly relieved. "And where would this ring be located?" he asked the wizard.

Gandalf grew weary once more, and Fili and Kili adamantly stopped celebrating to hear the answer. "The ring is hidden somewhere in the Misty Mountains. At least, that was where it had last been seen. I don't know exactly where it lies in the mountains, but I do know that it resides there, and that it will require a great deal of work in searching for."

"I do not care about that." Thorin was already in his closet, grabbing his sword belt and fur coat. "I will gather the company and we will ride out at once. Fili! Kili!" the boys snapped to attention. "Gather the company in the main hall. And tell your mother to come with us this time. I am sure the mountain will not be overtaken in a few weeks time." The boys nodded, and after hugging Bilbo extremely tight, sprinted out the door.

"Thorin…" Bilbo reached out to him pitifully. The King was at his side in an instant. "Please be careful… I wouldn't want to lose you so soon."

"And Thorin," Gandalf's tone was stern and warning. "Remember, you have a time limit." A glance down to Bilbo's stomach was all he needed to understand.

Thorin's nod was tight and short. "I will be back in due time." He leaned over and kissed Bilbo slowly, making the sweet moment last as long as possible. "And I will not return empty handed."

He strode to the door with confidence, and only stopped when Gandalf came hurriedly after him. "Thorin," he started sternly. "It is vital that you remember this one thing. Do not tell anyone of your quest, and what you seek. If you find the Ring, then do not show it to anyone, act like you don't know what it is if you must! But if anyone knows that you are after the Ring, then they would happily kill you for it." His voice grew dark, and his eyes darkened with an emotion Thorin had never seen in him before. "The Ring is more powerful than you can ever imagine. It can corrupt beings that have no sole purpose for its use. The corruption is like a terrible disease. Once one person is infected, everyone around it could be as well. And they would do anything for it. But you and your dwarves and Bilbo," he placed a wrinkled hand on the king's shoulder. "Should be fine. You have a driven purpose for finding and using it and keeping it. Nothing will go wrong, so long as you keep the Ring hidden!"

Thorin nodded sharply once more. "I understand." He said. "I will tell the others that there will be no speaking of the Ring or our quest to any outside force. Is there anything else?"

"Uncle!" Thorin turned to see Fili and Kili burst through his chamber doors. "We've gathered the dwarves! They're all waiting for you in the main hall!" Fili reported a bit breathlessly.

"Good." He turned back to Gandalf as Fili and Kili left once more. "Anything else?"

Gandalf smiled kindly. "I believe not. Just be careful. It would be a great shame to lose your husband, so soon after he births your son."

Thorin's heart leapt to his throat. "I…" it seemed almost impossible to get words out. "I am… having a son…" was all he could say. A glance at Bilbo proved that the hobbit must not have known this truth either. His eyes were glistening with tears once more, but this time, Thorin could tell that they were tears of joy.

Gandalf nodded slowly with a large smile. "I am sorry to have told you so soon, but…" he gave a knowing look. "I thought you might need the encouragement." He winked.

A hard swallow and Thorin nodded tightly. "I didn't think I would need any… but it is amazing news." He smiled at Bilbo, who was already smiling back at him. "I will tell you what, my love." He kneeled back down to Bilbo's side. "You may think of a name while I am gone. And once I return, whatever you have decided, will be chosen. What do you say?"

Bilbo's choked on his sob as he nodded eagerly. "I would love that! But please be back soon! Please do not make me worry!"

Thorin kissed Bilbo once more, slowly and passionately. "I will be back in a few weeks time, my dear." Another chaste kiss was placed on Bilbo's lips, before Thorin moved lower and placed one more kiss on Bilbo's tummy. "And you do not worry either, my son." He spoke to the little babe inside. "I will return for you as well. Do not give your Dad any trouble on my leave." He smiled, and kissed the bump once more, before standing up and leaving the room.

* * *

"Thorin what in bloody Mahal is this all about?" Dis demanded, the other dwarves agreeing around her. "I was in the middle of something important before my sons rushed in and dragged me out here!"

"As was I!" Dwalin nodded roughly behind her, thoroughly annoyed.

Balin placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as if to calm him down. "What is this all about, Thorin?" he asked calmly, in comparison to the others.

In the Great Hall, standing before the thrones, the company of thirteen dwarves (plus Dis) was waiting impatiently for their King to explain to them what the emergency was. They had waited for nearly forty-five minutes before he had finally arrived, and they were all growing restless.

Thorin sighed heavily at his companions' impatience and rubbed at his temples. "I called you all here," his voice boomed over their persistent chatter. "because I am leaving to travel to the Misty Mountains in search of an item that could save Bilbo's life. And if any of you choose to join me, you may. But even so, I would appreciate one of you staying behind and watching over Bilbo for me." He paused, eyes roaming over the dwarves before him. "So, which of you shall follow?"

There were few that stepped forward immediately. Fili, Kili, Dis, Balin, Dwalin, and Bofur had moved to the king's side, showing that they would aide in the quest. Thorin nodded his thanks to them, to which they nodded back happily. Thorin turned back to the others, who were all looking around at each other and shuffling their feet. They had all been tired enough from their first journey from the Shire to Erebor. They didn't want to travel all the way back to the Misty Mountains, which was even further away. It would be a four day journey, maybe even five. But that as only if they took regular rest stops along the way. And knowing Thorin, if it involved Bilbo in a matter of life or death, the king would take no rest and no breaks until this item was found and given to his consort.

Nonetheless, the reluctant dwarves thought back on what Fili and Kili had filled them in on. Bilbo was dying, and there was a chance he would never see his child. The thought made them extremely depressed, for having the hobbit around made the mountain very lively and more fun, and a babe would make it even more so. But a babe with one father would only be a reminder of the tragedy that occurred after its birth, and it would have the opposite effect a babe should have.

The dwarves, without anymore thought, rose their chins up, held their heads high, and strode over to the king with an air of, in some cases, false confidence. Thorin smiled thankfully at the lot of them, but then frowned and once again gazed at them all. "Will not one of you stay behind and watch over my Bilbo?" he asked.

The company shuffled around and looked at each other. None of them wanted to stay behind for the sake of feeling useless. If Bilbo was dying, they wanted to help! Thankfully, though, Gandalf had appeared behind them. "I believe I will more than happily offer to watch over the hobbit for you, Thorin." He spoke with a smile. "And if you need me at any given moment on your journey, all you must do is call my name. I will do my best to appear whenever I can."

"Thank you, Gandalf." Thorin nodded his head. "It means much to me that you would do so."

Gandalf waved him off. "Think nothing of it, dear friend." He laughed. "Only hurry. You do not want Bilbo to wait for long, do you?"

Thorin left no time to answer. He immediately turned to his company. "Pack all the necessities only!" he commanded with a booming voice. "We ride out tonight. We will take few rests or breaks, so get up your energy as much as possible before we leave. If you have family and such, you should inform them of the journey and how dangerous it may be. Warn them ahead of time." He shot a glance at a worried Gloin, who had his own wife and son to think about. "And one more thing. We will _not_, under _any_ circumstances, speak of what we seek. I shall tell you what it is on the way to the mountains, but not here, where others may listen in." The dwarves were more intrigued now. "Now, take your leave and prepare for the journey."

The company dispersed quickly, dwarves shuffled around and ran out of the main hall to their chambers to pack. Thorin remained behind, as he had no need to prepare. All he needed was his sword, his shield, and his courage. He didn't plan on sleeping and eating much anyone. He wanted to find that ring as soon as possible and bring it back to Bilbo.

And by Mahal, he would. Even if it killed him.

* * *

The journey did not take as long with less rest stops, much to Thorin's pleasure. The company reached the Misty Mountains with no severe injuries or complications in the span of about three to four days. The weather had been harsh, rain and wind had troubled their journey, but they had made it to the mountains alive. But now, the mountains were chilling to the bone. High elevation in a snowy mountain just made everyone colder than they had expected to be.

For the moment, the company was settled in a cave perched high on the top of the mountains, where Thorin said their first search for the ring would take place. "Alright, here is what we will do." Thorin announced loudly, causing groans from all the dwarves who thought they were about to get some rest. "We will take shifts to keep watch over the cave. Since all of you can't seem to focus well right about now," he observed his company's drooping eyes. "I will take the first one. And I will wake whoever will watch next. Now get some sleep."

Everyone immediately dropped to the ground, not even bothering to set out their bedrolls in a comfortable spot. They were so tired that they could literally sleep anywhere. Thorin couldn't count how many times he had caught a dwarf or two falling asleep while riding their ponies. He rolled his eyes when he heard the instant snores. He was slightly disappointed in his company, but half of him knew that he most likely was working them a little too hard. Just a little.

He sat for about two hours, simply watching the entrance of the cave with glaring eyes. The night was quiet. The only sound was the snoring and heavy breathing of the dwarves scattered along the ground. Crows would fly past the cave every now and then, cawing and disturbing the peace of the chilly night air. The wind outside was loud and obnoxious against the cave walls, and sometimes a swift cool breeze or two would drift into the cave in Thorin's face.

His eyes grew heavy in the third hour of his watch, but he fought to stay awake. He knew all he had to do was wake another dwarf and tell them to watch the cave, but he didn't want to unless he felt he was about to faint from exhaustion. Right then, he was only tired, but not on the verge of fainting. So he sat tall and still, watching the cave entrance and listening closely to everything around him.

And suddenly, there was a noise.

A loud splashing sound had resounded against the walls of the cave and it drew Thorin's attention quickly. The king stood with his sword raised in alert, and glanced everywhere around him, but he saw nothing. Nothing but the sleeping dwarves on the rocky ground. Then the noise sounded again, except this time, instead of a splash, it was the sound of water drifting through a lake or river. Almost like someone was… swimming.

Thorin stared further into the cave, for they had only settled on the edge of the cave, and there was much more of it to be explored apparently. He knew the sound was coming from back there. But before he began to walk further into the depths, he roused Dwalin with a hard kick from his boot. Dwalin jerked roughly awake. "Wha? Wha's go'n on?" the dwarf panicked drowsily groping the ground for his axe.

Thorin rolled his eyes and kicked the dwarf once more, this time not as hard. "I heard a sound further into the cave. While I go inspect, I want you to watch the company. If I do not return soon, assume you must follow me, and wake another to keep watch." The king commanded. At Dwalin's nod and lousy attempt to get up from the ground, Thorin made his way down the dark tunnels of the cave.

The further he walked, the darker it became, and the tighter he gripped his sword. His palms were sweating slightly, and his grip kept slipping, but he could easily tighten it again. His heart beat tremendously loudly, and his footsteps grew heavier. The sound of wafting water grew steadily stronger as he went, though, so he assumed he was going the right way.

After an endless amount of walking, Thorin finally reached an opening in the tunnel. Instead of the tight pathway he had been walking down, he then found himself in a larger cave, with sharp rocks along the ground and walls, and a large lake in the center. Thorin's eyes scanned the water, assuming the sounds he'd heard had come from there. His eyes widened, however, when he spotted a person, paddling a boat in the lake, toward a large stone that rested in the dead center of the lake. He was using his hands to paddle himself along, slowly and quiet humming was escaping his mouth. He sailed until the boat had touched the rock, and immediately, the person jumped out of the boat.

When standing, Thorin could see that the creature was actually a hobbit. He stared at the hobbit with very much confusion, but decided that if he was caught standing out in the open, it would not bode well. He shuffled silently over to a large boulder and hid himself behind it, listening with rapt attention as the hobbit spoke to himself.

"Very good day, very good indeed, precious." He spoke and the king heard a slapping against the ground. "I found me a fish, precious! A very good fish!" Thorin took a peek around the edge of the boulder and saw the hobbit staring a fire. "Now let us cook it, precious, and then can eat it!" the hobbit clapped excitedly as if he hadn't had food in months.

Thorin hid behind the rock once more. His mind was starting to drift to other ideas. What was a hobbit doing in a cave in the middle of the Misty Mountains? Who was he talking to? Who or what was 'Precious'? Thorin shuddered finding that it probably would have been best if he had never gone down that tunnel. But as he was about to sneak out from behind the rock and make his way back to the camp, his eyes caught a glint of something shiny near the edge of the lake.

Thorin froze in his spot. With a simple shift of his gaze, the glare from the object on the ground had disappeared and he found himself staring at a golden ring lying on the lake's edge. His heart pounded. That was what he needed. About ten feet away from him was the very thing that could save Bilbo's life. He needed to get to it, as soon as possible. But if he made too much noise, the hobbit on the lake would be sure to catch him. He had to go about getting that ring as silently as possible.

Slowly, crouching himself low to the ground, Thorin crept out from behind the rock and carefully placed one foot in front of the other. His eyes continually glanced between the ring on the ground and the hobbit's back, as he took quiet steps to the lake's edge. He froze when the hobbit shouted in triumph at getting his fire started, and a glance up showed that the creature's back was still turned to him. Thorin released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and continued to creep forward.

Now, dwarves were not known for their stealth and agility like hobbits were, but Thorin had been trained all his life in many things, including stealth. His steps were so quiet, even Thorin himself couldn't hear his heavy boots touch the ground. He glanced once more up to the hobbit and saw that it was humming once more while cooking his fish.

Thorin was finally at the water's edge, and the ring was merely inches away. With a trembling hand, he reached forward for the ring, careful not to lose his balance on his crouching legs. Suddenly the hobbit began talking again, making Thorin freeze. "Ah, now that's better, precious!" he said, holding the cooked fish up in victory. "Now we may eat it!" The hobbit sunk his teeth viciously into the fish and ripped out a large chunk. Thorin had to avert his gaze so as to not become nauseous.

He turned his attention back to the ring, which was only a centimeter away from his vibrating hand. Sweat poured over his brow, but he didn't wipe it away, nor even acknowledge it. All his focus and concentration was on the golden ring before him. He could feel the power pulsing into his veins at the mere close contact with it, and it made adrenaline pump through his veins and he suddenly surged forward and grabbed the ring from the ground.

But as it turns out, the ring was settled slightly in the water, and Thorin's hand grabbing at it had made a splash. A rather hard to miss splash.

Thorin glanced worriedly at the hobbit and began slowly backing away from the lake. The hobbit was tense and unmoving. He stopped humming, stopped eating, and only sat there in front of his cooking fire. Slowly, its head began to turn around, and Thorin quickly dove behind a boulder once more and bated his breath. He could feel the eyes of the hobbit roaming the cave, but he still heard no noise. Until the hobbit crept to the edge of the rock and sniffed the air. "I smell something strange, precious." It said, creeping into his boat and sailing to where Thorin had just stood. "The smell is strong here… but I smell it more over this way…"

Thorin panicked, his heart raced as he could hear the creeping feet of the hobbit come closer to his hiding spot. In a feat of total improvisation, Thorin picked up a small rock next to his boot and threw it across the cave, making a sound far away. The hobbit's steps stopped and Thorin held his ragged breath until he heard the hobbit make his way to the other side of the cave to inspect the noise, mumbling to his 'precious'.

Once it was distracted and not looking his way, Thorin leaped out from behind the boulder and rushed out of the cave, down the tunnel once more. On his way back to the campout, he looked in his hand, down at the Ring of Power. The power in it was pulsing through his veins; he could feel it. It was invigorating. In fact, he felt as if he could run faster than before. He felt like he weighed nothing, and he was no longer a bit tired whatsoever. He could have run a mile and felt as good as he always did. But the ring had to go to Bilbo, Thorin continued saying in his head. Bilbo needed it more than he did.

"Everyone!" Thorin went around kicking all the dwarves in turn making them groan and wince in agony. "Wake up! We must leave, now!" Thorin spoke in a commanding tone but it was not his usual volume. He stayed quiet, in case the hobbit heard them escaping. "Do not speak or ask questions! Just gather your things and leave to the base of the mountain. Once there, get on your pony and ride! Now!" he added when everyone moved sluggishly. Thankfully, they seemed to get the message and hurried a bit more in exiting the cave.

Thorin was the last to leave, making sure that each dwarf made it out of the cave safely with all their belongings. With a glance over his shoulder, he saw a shadow creeping down the tunnel toward the entrance. He rushed out of the cave following the other dwarves down the mountain, without a second glance behind him.

Thorin figured out what was 'precious' now, and he didn't want to stick around when the hobbit of the Misty Mountains found it stolen.

* * *

"Ah, you have returned!" Gandalf announced gleefully, rushing to the dwarf company at the Front Gates of Erebor. Thorin nodded sharply and dismissed his company back to their families as he approached the wizard. "Well, seeing how you have arrived back so soon, I assume you have found the… _item_." The emphasis on 'item' was not needed for Thorin to understand what the wizard was talking about.

"I did." He produced a clenched fist and held it out to Gandalf, though did not open it. "Now where is Bilbo? What am I to do with it?" He spoke in a rush.

Gandalf pulled a long golden chain out from his robes and gave it to the king. "Put it on this chain and have Bilbo wear it. If he is still alive three hours after the birth, then he is free to take it off, but-" Gandalf held a finger in the air. "You must then give it to your son, for it will keep him alive. Being born under the influence of the ring, he will need the ring's influence to stay with him. But do not worry," he added at Thorin's look of horror. "The ring will not corrupt him. He was born under its influence, yes, but that will make him immune to its… err… _charms_." The wizard finished lamely.

Thorin seemed a bit reluctant but nodded anyway, and rushed past the wizard to his chambers. Gandalf watched him run, smiling slightly.

"Bilbo!" Thorin shouted as he ran into the room. Bilbo shakily turned his head on the pillow and smiled as best as he could at the sight of his unharmed husband. He was lying in the exact same place as he had been when Thorin had left him, the king noticed. But it didn't matter as he rushed forward. "Bilbo, wear this." He commanded gently as he placed the ring on the chain. "It will help you. You will stay alive."

Bilbo groaned as Thorin carefully lifted his head from the fluffy pillow so he could hang the chain around his neck. Thorin leaned back once the chain was on a placed his hobbit's head back on the pillow, gently chuckling at the moan of pleasure that came from him. "Well, do you feel any different?" Thorin spoke, rubbing Bilbo's tummy soothingly.

Bilbo fought to keep his eyes open as he answered. "I… don't know…" his voice was weak and rough, having not spoken for a few days. "Maybe… I feel… a little… something, but…" he struggled for the right words, but they never came out.

Thorin smiled. "Do not worry, my love. You will. You will live to see our son. And we will raise it together. Just like we wanted." He took his consort's hand and kissed it.

Bilbo's smile came back and he nodded weakly. "I hope you are right." He said.

* * *

"Well, precious, I don't see anything!" the hobbit spoke, sailing back to his rock in the center of the cave. "Maybe the thing got away, precious, maybe! Or maybe it got lost in the tunnels, yes it did, precious. Or it could have died, precious. That would be nice. No one to bother us here, precious. No one to bother us here… All we need is each other… and I will stay looking normal, precious. Forever normal…" he laughed as he climbed up onto the rock and snuggled into his sleeping place.

He had been too distracted that night to notice that his body was slowly changing.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I feel like it wasn't my best, but I made it through at least, right? Hope you enjoyed! Stick around for the next chapter! It'll be updated the SECOND it is finished!

PLEASE REVIEW! XD


	2. A Blessing and a Tragedy

**Author's Note:** FINALLY! I have up the next chapter! Thank everyone for their patience! I get very easily distracted! But we're back to the story now anyway, so hopefully you enjoy! :)

* * *

Bilbo had been doing great the past few days. With Thorin's help, he was able to get up from bed and take a walk around the mountain. It became one of his favorite pastimes, in fact. He and Thorin would stroll around in the mountains every afternoon, and sometimes even through the streets of Dale.

Occasionally, Fili and Kili would join them, talking animatedly about their new baby cousin. They had been so excited when they happened upon Bilbo and Thorin walking around one day. They, as well as everyone else, had taken it as a good sign, and that Bilbo would most definitely live through his pregnancy.

Thorin was ecstatic as well when Bilbo asked him one day to help him out of bed. Due to his bed-ridden state, the King had assumed Bilbo would be too weak to do anything. But then, Bilbo spoke from his side saying he felt well enough to stand up. Apparently, the ring did wonders on his health. Thorin felt the warmth in his hobbit's skin once more, and the color slowly returned to his face as well. It pleased the King greatly.

It was after one of their daily walks one day that Bilbo and Thorin were sitting in front of the fireplace in their chamber. Thorin sat on the floor with his back turned to Bilbo, who was sitting in a chair and carefully braiding the dwarf's hair with a small smile. The only sound in the room was the crackling of the warm fire and Thorin's soft, yet deep humming. He was humming a song about the mountain under his breath, but was afraid to sing it out loud and break the peaceful silence. He simply sat there, letting Bilbo's hands card through his dark tresses and soothe his mind.

"What is that song about?" Bilbo asked suddenly, not stopping the motions of his hands. "I've heard you sing it before, but you have never told me what it was."

Thorin smiled. "It is a song about the mountain being robbed of its gold by Smaug long ago. He transformed into his dragon form and attacked the mountain. After all the dwarves had fled, he hoarded all the gold for himself, and took it back to his own kingdom, your home. Then, after a few years, the dwarves returned to the mountain, expecting a fight. Yet all we found was empty chambers and mines that used to have gold in them. And only recently," Thorin turned in his spot to shoot a knowing smile at Bilbo. "We have gotten that gold back. After we killed him for… 'killing' you." He paused for a moment. "But the song is mainly about the attack of the dragon on Erebor." He clarified.

Bilbo laughed. "I figured as much. The song says nothing about theft or revenge."

Thorin laughed as well, and the silence returned. After a moment or two, Thorin felt a nudge at the back of his head. He turned curiously to see Bilbo suddenly sitting rigid in his seat with wide eyes. "Bilbo?" Thorin asked, growing worried and turning around fully to place his hands on either side of Bilbo's head. "Bilbo what's wrong? Are you alright?" his eyes searched Bilbo's person, but found nothing appearing out of the norm.

"Thorin…" Bilbo spoke in a hushed voice, reaching to grasp his husband's shoulder. "I think… it's time." His green eyes met Thorin's. "I think the baby's coming." Before Thorin could reply, Bilbo shouted in pain and grabbed his stomach, curling into himself.

Thorin gathered himself from shock enough to run to the door and shout for healers to come to their room immediately. Without reasoning or explanation to the puzzled dwarves outside the chamber, Thorin rushed back into the room and began helping Bilbo from his seat. "Are you sure, Bilbo?" he asked, settling the hobbit down on the bed. He waited for a worded response, but all he got was a nod of the head and another scream.

Thorin began panicking. He stood there, waiting for the healers to arrive, allowing Bilbo to crush his hand intently in his own. It almost hurt. The King raced through his memories, trying to remember what his sister had done when she was giving birth. All he remembered was a lot of deep breathing and screaming. He shuddered at the memories, but the banging of an opening door brought him out of his reverie. He turned to see Oin, some other dwarven healers, and Dis rush into the room and over to him in a flurry. He could distantly hear his nephews out in the hall complaining about not being let in.

"How long has he been like this?" Oin asked quickly as the other healers checked Bilbo over.

Thorin didn't waste a second in his answer. "Only a few minutes. What is happening to him? Is it… is the child on its way?" he stuttered worriedly.

Oin nodded sharply. "I believe so. Thorin," his visage turned grave and guarded. "I know you won't want to, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Bilbo needs as much room as possible for this!"

The king stood still for a moment. His eyes flickered between the healer and his screaming husband quickly. He didn't want to leave. Bilbo sounded like he was in much pain, but he knew from experience that if he tried to stay, he would be ushered out of the room anyway. It happened all the time. It was like Thorin had no control over where he was and wasn't anymore.

He regretted leaving Bilbo alone with the healers and Dis, but he trusted that they would let no harm come to him. Dis had at least handled such an experience herself and knew how to handle it and keep Bilbo as calm as he could possibly be at this point.

"Uncle, what's happening in there?!" Kili demanded once Thorin stepped outside. "We heard you call out, and then we heard Uncle Bilbo scream! But no one will tell us what's wrong!"

Thorin would have laughed at his pouting and childish nephews if he wasn't so worried about Bilbo. "Bilbo is going into labor." Was all he said before seating himself on the ground.

Fili and Kili looked at each other with wide eyes and smiled brightly. "Is he really?" they asked together in excitement.

This time, Thorin did laugh. "Yes, he is. But I was apparently getting in the way in there, and they told me to leave."

The brothers plopped down on either side of their Uncle, smiles static on their faces. "Have you come up with a name yet?" Fili asked curiously.

Thorin's eyes widened in realization. "Actually… Bilbo was supposed to think of one while we were off in the Mountains." He stared down at the floor. "I wonder if he ever came up with anything… He never told me if he did."

Suddenly, a loud shout from in the chambers interrupted the screams. It was Bilbo, and apparently through all his pain and suffering, he managed to call loudly and angrily, "Thorin Oakenshield, I am going to KILL YOU!" And then, he returned to his screaming.

The king winced and his nephews only laughed. "Don't worry, Uncle." Fili reassured, placing a hand on his back. "He's only in pain. He'd probably say more if you were in there."

Thorin sighed heavily and rubbed on his temples. "I know that, but it does not make me feel any worse." He realized at that point that he had been wringing his hands together in nervousness.

The brothers laughed once more and decided to leave their Uncle to his worrying. Instead, they sat opposite him, and talked about their cousin. They planned the games they would play with him, the tricks they would teach him. Thorin heard every word, and he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. His nephews were truly excited about the babe.

And as for Thorin himself; he could not wait to meet his new son.

* * *

Thorin froze rigidly, as did Fili and Kili, when the screaming from the next room suddenly stopped. The hallway was quiet without it, and Thorin bated his breath until something, anything, sounded through the hall once more. The silence was deafening, and it was driving the King mad with worry. He glanced quickly at his nephews to see worry written on their faces as well.

In the next moment, to Thorin's shock, another scream resounded. But this one was different from Bilbo's. This scream was more high-pitched, and was more of a cry than a scream of pain. It was a shrill wail that was so loud, other doors down the hall were opened so dwarves could peek their heads out curiously. But Thorin was of no mind to pay any attention to them. Somehow, he simply _knew_ who was crying.

The chamber door opened and out stepped Dis, who was smiling largely. "Congratulations, brother." She said cheerfully. "Your son is a nice, healthy little hobbit. Born with a full head of hair, he was! Just like most hobbits are! They're cleaning him up now, and will tell you when you can see him."

Thorin stood abruptly with a huge smile daunting his features. He could have sworn it split his face in half, but he didn't care. He had a son! He heard it crying! His son was healthy, and living! The King's heart was pounding, and he felt as overjoyed as he had he and Bilbo had gotten married. It didn't take long for him to grow used to that feeling.

After Dis left, Oin poked his head out of the door with a smile. "Thorin, you can come in now."

It took nearly two seconds for Thorin to rush into the room. He glanced around, but the first thing he saw was Bilbo lying on the bed, motionless, with his eyes closed. Thorin's smile wiped from his face immediately, and nearly had an aneurism, before Oin clarified, "He is merely unconscious from the pain. He will wake soon. Do not fret," to which Thorin sighed in relief.

He then turned his attention to the little noises he heard coming from the small crib across the room that Thorin had made about halfway through Bilbo's pregnancy. His heart pounded loudly in his chest as he walked slowly over to it. It was almost in slow motion as he turned his head down to stare into the crib.

And that was when his heart stopped.

The babe's body was wrapped snuggly in a blue cloth, and his eyes were closed, but his little baby arms were moving around, as if reaching for something to grab onto. His small head was covered with dark brown, curly hair and it shifted from side to side, as if the poor thing was having a nightmare. His mouth was slightly open and little whimpers and mewls were coming from it. Its skin was pale, after being cleaned from all the blood most likely. Thorin could see instantly that the babe resembled Bilbo well.

Thorin reached down and very gently touched the babe's curls, patting down the unruly hair. The motion made the babe's eyes flutter open and Thorin nearly staggered. The eyes were a bright blue. Not deep blue, like his own, but a lighter and more cerulean blue. They were beautiful. Bilbo would be so happy to see them. For some reason, he had wanted so badly for the babe to have Thorin's eyes. And while they weren't the same shade, the king knew Bilbo would be pleased either way.

"Is it alright to-" Thorin was about to ask if he could pick the babe up, but he found that he was alone in the room with his son and unconscious husband. Assuming that it was, Thorin took the babe carefully in his arms, and felt like he was carrying a small pile of feathers. The boy was so light and small, the King was afraid he might break him if he was too tight in his grip. But, otherwise, he kept his hold on the boy firm, so as not to drop the poor thing.

The babe stared up at him, observing him curiously. The small hands grasped and let go of the air, as if trying to grab one of Thorin's braids. Thorin released a quiet laugh and tickled the babe lightly on its chubby tummy, making it squirm. "Hello there, little one." He spoke gently. "I'm sorry your Dad is not awake to greet you with me… but he will wake soon."

As if to comfort him, the babe took Thorin's finger and gripped it tightly when the King went to poke the boy's nose. Thorin's smile grew wider as he felt the soft baby skin of his son's hand wrap around his much larger finger. The grip was surprisingly strong, but Thorin knew that he could break free of it. But he just didn't want to.

A moan sounded from the bed, and Thorin turned to see Bilbo's eyes flicker open and look around him, like he didn't know where he was. His eyes met Thorin's across the room, and they widened considerably when they caught sight of the baby. "Is that…" he spoke weakly, but he couldn't form the sentence.

Thorin's smile and nod was all he needed to see. "Could you… bring him over here… I still feel… a bit weak." He finished lamely, but was able to reach out a hand to his husband.

Thorin nodded once again and walked over to the bedside. Very cautiously, he handed the baby to Bilbo's waiting arms. The babe stared up at him just as he had with Thorin. It seemed that Bilbo was at a loss for words. All he choked out was, "He has your eyes." Thorin took a seat next to him when tears began falling.

"Did you ever think of a name?" Thorin asked gently, wiping Bilbo's tears away with his thumb. "I had forgotten to ask you about it long ago."

Bilbo stayed still for a moment, staring lovingly down at his child. The eyes shined brightly up at him and maybe the babe didn't know how to smile yet, but the smile was in those eyes. Bilbo could see it. "Frodo." He said softly, bouncing the baby in his arms a bit, with a growing smile. "I want to name him Frodo. Is that alright?" he looked to Thorin for confirmation.

"I think that is a perfect name." Thorin confirmed.

The two sat there in the silence together for a long while, simply watching their son observe the world around him. He looked slightly overwhelmed, his eyes wide and blinking nonstop. The sight made Bilbo laugh. "Welcome to the world, Frodo." He said softly, taking Frodo's tiny hand in his own. "I know you will love it here."

Frodo made a noise as if to say, "I will!" and his parents laughed together.

That made it official enough for them. They were a family. And nothing could take them apart.

"By the way," Thorin spoke. "I forgot to tell you. Happy Birthday, Bilbo."

* * *

If little Frodo hadn't been overwhelmed before, he certainly was when Fili and Kili finally got to see him. They were showering him with hugs and snuggles and the poor little baby didn't even know who they were exactly. Bilbo watched them from the bed, laughing as Frodo's eyed flickered constantly back and forth between the two brothers. It almost looked like he was afraid.

"You know, you might be scaring him, right?" Thorin spoke from behind Bilbo. He was smiling but being genuinely serious at the same time.

The brothers pouted together and looked down at the baby in the crib. "Is it true, little cousin?" Fili cooed, reaching down to tickle Frodo. "Are we scaring you?"

Frodo squirmed and his arms flapped around as if trying to fight Fili's hand. Fili only laughed and pulled away. Kili then picked the baby up and squeezed it to his chest tightly, exclaiming, "He's adorable!" Bilbo snorted along with Fili and Thorin merely rolled his eyes.

"Put him down, Kili. Before you break him." Thorin picked Frodo from Kili's arms, and cuddled him gently against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Uncle! But he's so cute! And look at how small he is!" Kili was right. Frodo was only just about the length of Thorin's forearm. It was slightly worrying, but Thorin had to keep reminding himself that the babe was a hobbit, and was probably supposed to be that small.

At that moment, Gandalf, who had been surprisingly absent from the mountain for a while, stepped into the room with a smile. "I heard the good news from a mile away." He exclaimed happily, his gaze falling on Frodo. "I assume that is him?"

Bilbo nodded. "He's our little Frodo." He clarified.

Gandalf's smile grew larger as his eyes shifted to Bilbo. "And how are you feeling, Bilbo? Did the ring work alright for you?"

A nod came from Bilbo once more. "I feel weak, but I am sure that was merely from giving birth." He laughed lightly.

A hand outstretched from the wizard's side toward Bilbo. "Then, if you would, may I have the ring? So I can give it to Frodo?" His smile staggered when he noticed Bilbo's hesitation, and he saw the hobbit clutch the ring at his neck. "Bilbo," the hobbit jumped. "It will keep Frodo alive."

Bilbo's eyes widened. "What?" he exclaimed. "Why did no one tell me this?" he demanded, grabbing Frodo from Thorin's arms and tucking the baby protectively into his chest. "There is a chance he may die?" his voice was quiet with fear.

Gandalf shook his head. "Not if you give him the ring."

Bilbo nodded frantically, allowing Thorin to remove the chain from his neck since his own arms were occupied with Frodo. Bilbo instantly felt weaker than he had before, and his arms nearly gave out, but he kept his grip, not wanting to drop the baby. Soon, the ring was placed around Frodo's neck, and it looked so large and bulky around his little neck. The chain was almost as long as he was!

Gandalf laughed. "Perhaps I could find a shorter chain for him." he reasoned, getting nods in response.

Frodo clutched at the ring with a tight fist. He stared at it for a few moments, before stuffing the gold into his mouth and tasting it. Bilbo pulled it out hastily, but every time he did, Frodo would only stick it back in his mouth and gurgle on his spit. Sooner or later, Bilbo gave up, and allowed Frodo to suck on the ring to his hearts content.

"It is amusing." Gandalf began, watching Frodo as if in a trance. "How such a young and small thing as Frodo… can make something so powerful and dangerous seem so innocent."

* * *

Sméagol is shocked by his own reflection. He had been fishing in the lake, in hopes of catching another fish like he had been for the past few weeks. It was rare that fish ever appeared in the mountain, and Sméagol was delighted about the past few days' catches. But for the first time in weeks, Sméagol found himself staring back at his own reflection in the water.

He was horrifying.

For some reason, he didn't look like he usually did. His skin was no longer smooth, but instead blotchy and rough. His head was beginning to bald, and his eyes were growing larger, and looked as if they were about to pop out of his slightly enlarged head. His teeth were starting to rot, and he even felt a loose one that was about to fall out.

Sméagol noticed how he had felt a bit out of sorts in the last few weeks, but he never thought it was as bad a situation as that! For some strange reason, he was rapidly aging, looking exactly as he had before he had found…

The Ring.

"Precious?" Sméagol called out. His voice echoed across the cave as he ran around frantically, searching in vain for his golden treasure. "Precious, where are you?" he called once more, but there was no response. Anywhere he looked, the hobbit-like creature could not find a glimmer of the ring's gold surface.

The realization reached his brain after a whole two hours of searching. "LOST!" he cried, to no one in particular. He found a large rock nearby, and smashed his head against it repeatedly. "Lost! Lost! Lost! Lost! My precious is lost!" he screamed over and over again. His head began to swivel but he didn't care. His mind was corrupted by his precious.

Just then, his eye caught a glimmer of something behind the rock. Excited and gleeful, Sméagol leaped down to the sparkly object, but he was sorely disappointed that it was not his ring. Instead, it was a broach of some sort. A pin that had a sort of crest embedded onto its flat surface. Sméagol was about to throw it out of his reach, but stopped mid-aim.

Where had that come from, he wondered. What was it doing there? How did it get there? His mind drifted back to earlier days, but he never recalled having or finding a broach. Especially the one he held in his hand. So where did it come from?

His mind suddenly remembered the incident that occurred a while back from that day. The day he heard a noise from behind… the very boulder he was next to. He had smelled something odd from there as well, when he thought about it. He had been about to investigate it, but there had been another, louder noise at the other end of the cave, and he instead went to investigate that.

Had it been a person? What were they doing there? Had they… stolen… his precious?

Sméagol screamed in rage. It pierced the walls of the cave and made the rocks crumble. It might have been heard from miles away, by the dwellers at the mountains base. His face was positively bursting with anger. "STOLEN!" he shouted again, squeezing the broach in his tight grip.

He looked down at the crest upon it. "I will find you, Precious! I swear by it!" he promised, before lurking back into the shadows, and began his planning.

* * *

"Uncle?" Kili spoke up one day, while he, Fili and Thorin were on their way to a council meeting. "Where's your pin?" he asked curiously.

Thorin looked down at his chest and found that his pin was indeed not there. It was the pin that marked him of royal heritage and it came useful in many situations. He should have had it on at all times. "I suppose it must have fallen somewhere." He murmured, thinking his pin going missing was very odd.

Fili shrugged nonchalantly, pushing him ahead more. "No worries! We can always have someone make you a new one! Not like it's the end of the world!"

Thorin nodded distractedly and continued moving, taking his eyes away from where his pin should have been. He knew it really didn't matter, but he couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that something bad would result from it being missing.

* * *

When Thorin returned from his meeting, it was very late at night. He regretted that he had had to leave Bilbo alone all day to care for Frodo, but Bilbo had waved him off. Thorin was always busy anyway, and Bilbo had expected it. It made Thorin a bit upset knowing that Bilbo expected him to be absent a lot, but at the same time, he knew Bilbo was right, and could not argue.

When he entered their chamber, however, he found Bilbo and Frodo asleep on the bed. Frodo was lying on his back, still wrapped in the blue blanket, and Bilbo was his side, curled up protectively around the baby. His hand held Frodo's head to his chest and his nose was nestled in his son's dark brown curls.

Thorin smiled and let out a quiet laugh, so as not to wake the two of them. Bilbo must have fallen asleep while playing with Frodo, or more likely telling him stories. Bilbo had probably been trying to lull the babe to sleep, but fell asleep himself in the process.

Thorin closed the door as quietly as possible, and sneaked around the room, preparing to change into his bedclothes, before he heard a small noise come from the bed. It turned out he had been loud enough to wake Frodo, but not Bilbo.

"I'm sorry, Frodo." Thorin apologized, picking Frodo up from the bed and cradling him in his arms. "I did not mean to wake you." Frodo stared up at him with those bright wide eyes. "Tell you what. I will sing you a song. How does that sound?" Frodo continued staring. Thorin laughed. "It will help you go back to sleep, I promise." Frodo suddenly reached up and yanked harshly at one of Thorin's braids. The king laughed, despite the pain, and tugged the little one's hand from his hair. "I won't sing to you if you act like that, little one." He said sternly.

So Thorin sang deeply and quietly, holding the babe to where it could feel Thorin's heartbeat. He rocked back and forth gently, and watched as Frodo's eyes began drifting closed. Soon, the song had driven Frodo to deep sleep, and Thorin could see his tiny chest rise and fall underneath the cloth. Smiling, he placed Frodo to lay back once more with his dad, and Bilbo happened to curl up around him even tighter.

Once changed for bed, Thorin climbed up next to Bilbo and wrapped his arms around him. Bilbo shifted in his sleep, but then became immobile once more. Thorin chuckled and fell asleep easily, with his arms around Bilbo, whose arms were hugging Frodo to him. He slept the best he had in years.

* * *

Frodo had begun to crawl many months later. Thorin was growing used to the sight of his child crawling into his meeting rooms with Bilbo chasing after him. Frodo would crawl up to Thorin and tug on his pants, staring up at him like a puppy that was begging for food. Bilbo would chase in after him and pick him from the ground.

"Frodo! How many times must I chase you around this mountain?" Bilbo would say, causing the others in the room to laugh. "I am so sorry. I'll take him back to our room." And Bilbo would give his husband a quick kiss and exit with Frodo squirming around in his arms.

Bilbo was constantly struggling with letting Frodo out of his sight. He never wanted to leave the child. He had grown an attachment so large, that he wouldn't even go anywhere without him. It was almost as if he didn't trust anyone but himself with Frodo. Sure, he would let Fili and Kili play with him, and let Thorin hold him all the time, but he was always with them, watching over to make sure no harm came to his son.

Thorin was protective as well, but not as much as Bilbo. Unlike Bilbo, he was forced away from Frodo a lot due to his royal duties. The only reason Bilbo wasn't pulled away with him, was because someone had to watch over Frodo. And Bilbo gladly took up the job all the time. Thorin would immediately make his way back to his room whenever he had the time to see Bilbo and Frodo before he was whisked away once again. And he would not return until late in the night, but often found Frodo awake, and would sing him to sleep just like he had once before.

But now that Frodo was crawling, Bilbo was having a hard time keeping track of him, and it was driving the poor hobbit insane. He had once lost Frodo in his chamber, and nearly fainted, before Thorin had found the babe hiding under the bed, exploring.

"Well," Bilbo sighed heavily, hoisting Frodo into his arms. "He definitely has your sense for adventure, that's for sure." He breathed out a laugh, but it sounded a bit forced.

Thorin looked at him curiously, but decided to let it go. "I suppose he does." He agreed.

Bilbo bounced Frodo around in his arms and was delighted to hear the babe laugh and flap his arms, like a bird. Bilbo's smile grew enormous, and set Frodo down on the bed, and lied down with him. "Time for your nap, darling." Bilbo said and planted a light kiss to Frodo's forehead. "Go to sleep, and I will be right here when you wake up."

Frodo eventually fell asleep, and paid no mind to Bilbo hovering protectively over him. Thorin watched the two, slightly confused at the way Bilbo was acting. "Bilbo, dear," he spoke, making Bilbo turn his head up at last. "Why are you acting like this? You will not let him out of your sight, and you cling to him more than he clings to you. What is it all about?"

Bilbo's expression turned grave. He was hesitant to respond, but eventually, he did. "…I almost lost him once. I thought I would never see him. But now that I am alive, and I can, I never want to let him out of my sight. If anything happened to him…" his voice trailed off. "I don't know what I would do…" he sobbed quietly, and brought up a hand to cover his mouth from making too much noise.

Thorin moved over to him and held him tightly. "Bilbo, you must stop this. Nothing will happen to Frodo. You and I will make sure of that. But you needn't hover over him like a mother bear and its cub." He smiled and forced Bilbo to look at him. "I will make sure that no harm comes to him. I promise."

Bilbo breathed in a ragged, unlevel breath and nestled into Thorin's chest. "You're right, aren't you?" he groaned more to himself. "I suppose he can nap in his crib then. I think _I_ need to learn to be separated from him, more than he needs to learn to be separated from _me_."

Thorin smiled and nodded his approval. "Good." Bilbo stayed on the bed as Thorin lifted Frodo carefully and placed him in the crib across the room. He leaned down and kissed his head before returning to Bilbo. "See? It is not so hard, is it?" Thorin nudged.

Bilbo chuckled quietly. "No. I suppose not. But nothing is going to stop me from worrying!"

"I know, Bilbo. Believe me, I know."

* * *

Thorin was finally able to drag Bilbo outside their room hours later. There was to be another meeting, and it was necessary for Bilbo to attend. He had been reluctant (_extremely _so) but sooner or later, Bilbo was dragged away, leaving Fordo to sleep in his crib, with the room guarded.

But Bilbo's gut told him something bad would come of leaving Frodo alone. But then again, he always had that feeling. Maybe it was just nothing.

* * *

"There you are, Precious." Sméagol smirked cockily as he approached the mountain of Erebor. The pin, he discovered, had held the royal crest of the Durin family line. It took Sméagol months to work up the courage to leave the Misty Mountains, and even longer to find out what the crest had symbolized. But, months later, there he stood. The gates were monstrous, and intimidating, but Sméagol could _feel_ the ring's power emanating from inside.

But how was he to get in?

He wrapped the black cloak tighter around his body, and pulled his hood up further. No one could see what he was turning into. If someone did, then they would chase him away, horrified. So he did his best to hide his face as he stepped up to the Ereborian guards. "Excuse me," Sméagol said, slightly disguising his voice to a deeper and rougher tone. "I need to get through."

The guards held their axes out to block Sméagol when he tried to get through. "Sorry." One said. "But you can't just go wandering about and expect to get back in the Mountain that easily. You have to have authorization."

"From who?" Sméagol snarled, his patience waning.

The guard laughed. "From the King, of course. Or even his consort, if you must. But you can't enter without their permission."

Sméagol growled. He could feel the pulses of the ring's power surge through the mountain, and he didn't want to waste any time convincing those guards he could enter! "I'm sorry, put how does one get permission?" he feigned politeness.

"Well, do you some sort of note, or delivery that you were asked to bring by?" the second guard inquired.

Sméagol was about to groan loudly and say no, but he stopped. The pin! It was in his pocket! He could use it to his advantage once more. "I came to deliver this to the King." He held out the pin, making sure to keep his hands covered in the sleeves of his cloak. "He dropped it in the forest, and I was sent to retrieve it." He lied.

The guards moved their axes aside. "Well, why didn't you say so before?" one said. "I'll get them to open the gates for you." The guard made a gesture up to the dwarves on top of the gates.

Slowly, the gates opened just barely enough for Sméagol to step into the mountain. Immediately, he felt the ring's power even greater than had before, outside the gate. His search started. He kept to the shadows so as to not be seen by any suspicious dwarves. All he had to do was follow the source of the ring's mighty power, and he would be led the right way.

So he followed. He followed for what felt like an eternity, but the thought was driven away by the ever-growing presence of The One Ring. Sméagol's smile grew larger and larger as he neared closer to the power source, but it vanished when he saw that he was lead to a door with guards again.

"Stop!" Shouted the guards as they saw Sméagol approach. "Who are you? And state your business."

Sméagol sneered at how much more strict the guards before him were than the ones he previously encountered. "I have the King's pin to deliver."

"Then you can very well find him elsewhere, because he's not here!" the other guard spit out.

Sméagol rolled his eyes, but continued. "Well, I know that. I found him earlier and he told me to put it into his room for him to retrieve later." The guards still appeared skeptical. "Listen, I am one of the King's trusted friends. I can promise you that I am only here to return the pin." He reasoned.

The guards glanced at one another. "Well, surely one of us could put it in there for you." One said.

"Oh, but you both need to be watching the door? What if an intruder comes along?" Sméagol replied.

There was a long moment of hesitation. "Fine. But you may only enter for no longer than a minute. And if it takes longer than that, then we will _escort_ you out." The guard threatened.

Sméagol nodded tightly. "Of course." The guards stepped aside each and opened the chamber doors for him. Sméagol laughed quietly as he reflected on how easy getting past the guards of Erebor was.

The doors closed behind him. Darkness overtook him, and he sighed in relief. It felt good to be back in the darkness again. It was almost as dark as his cave. Almost. He blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dark. Once it was, he spotted a crib on the far side of the room.

That was where the ring was. Sméagol could feel it. He could feel the power stronger than ever. Much stronger than he had in the last few months. His bones creaked and his legs wobbled as he came ever closer to the power source.

Inside the crib, was a sleeping babe. Sméagol was ultimately confused and disappointed by this discovery, but before he turned away, he saw a gold chain around the babe's neck. Carefully, he reached down and tugged the chain out from underneath the babe's clothes and gasped loudly. The One Ring, _his_ One Ring, was dangling from the chain, sparkling like a gem.

But he hadn't even had to grasp the ring to feel himself changing back to normal once again. The second his gnarled hand lightly grazed the babe's skin, he saw his own skin return to its pale pink and the splotches vanish. He felt the hair on his head growing back, and his bones steadily became stronger. "This babe…" Sméagol spoke to himself. "He is… influenced by your power, Precious. He _has_ your power. He is not your master… he is an equivalent of _you…_" Sméagol took his other hand and lightly stroked the babe's curly hair. "My Precious."

A sound from the hall brought Sméagol back to reality. He glanced around the room, as if he knew someone was watching him. Without thinking, he threw the pin onto the bed and replaced it by scooping the babe into his arms and folding them so that the babe was easily hidden within his large sleeves. He situated himself a bit more, and then took his leave.

He ignored the guards when they acknowledged his leaving, and kept walking briskly, keeping to the shadows once again. He could tell the babe was waking up, for he felt a struggling in his arms, and he struggled himself to keep it still. The squirming and wriggling continued until he was finally at the gates. Once again, they opened for him, and he took a hasty exit.

Halfway into the forest, he realized that his cave in the Misty Mountains would not fit for a hiding place anymore. The King could have seen him there and it might be the first place they searched when they searched for the child. He had to find a new place for shelter. Somewhere no one would dare to enter. And he knew the perfect place.

He walked through day and night for three days. The baby was hard on him the whole time, as well, making the journey even more difficult. Feeding the baby was the trickiest part, but thankfully he was able to stock up on supplies once they reached Dale. And after those three days passed, he finally arrived at the place he was searching for. The tower of Isengard.

He wondered up at its glory. It was by far the tallest monument in all of Middle Earth. There was a large window at the very top, but it was covered by planks of wood that were meant to keep it shut and not let in any light. And the lava moat flowing around the tower would definitely keep intruders out. But how was he himself supposed to get in?

Suddenly, his brain hatched an idea. He dragged a large wooden board that had fallen off the tower window at the very top and placed it across the lava. Thankfully, the plank was long enough to reach from the opposite side to the door. But it was very unstable. He balanced himself well upon the creaking wood, clutching the babe to his chest so as to not drop it. The lava was unbearably hot and the fumes brought sweat to his brow instantly.

When he reached the other side, he immediately opened the door and rushed inside, grabbing the plank and dragging it along with him. He sighed heavily in relief and leaned against the wall to rest his beating heart for a moment. Just as he was resting, he heard noises from outside. Pressing his ear against the door, he heard that they were horses, and he heard the sound of a deep voice shouting about a… baby.

Sméagol wasted no time. Hopefully, the people outside his door would not investigate such an ominous tower. Plus, Sméagol had taken the only thing that could allow them to cross. So they wouldn't be able to get in anyway. He raced upstairs, holding the babe tightly. They spiraled for a long time, before the two finally reached the top room. It was dark and eerie. The place almost looked like it was about to fall apart.

Carefully, Sméagol placed the babe on the ground, on its back. He sneaked over to the window, peeking out between the boards and searching the ground for the source of the noises. He spotted a band of horses and ponies huddled in the trees. The riders were talking intently of something. Whatever it was, Sméagol did not know.

He waited with bated breath until the riders ran off further into the woods. He released a breath and returned to pick the baby up. It turns out, the babe could crawl, for it had already made it halfway across the room. "Well," Sméagol spoke to the babe in his arms. "It looks like it's just you and me now. And I will keep you away from them. Away from everything. You will be safe… my Precious."

The babe stared up at him with glowing blue eyes and blinked rapidly. It cocked it's head to the side as if to question Sméagol's doing. But Sméagol only smiled and hugged the baby closer to him. "My Precious." He murmured, petting the babe's soft hair.

When he pulled away, he noticed that there was a name sewn into the babe's clothes. "Frodo…" he said the name to himself, testing it out.

The baby laughed and flapped his arms around in glee at the sound of his name being spoken. Sméagol stared back at it curiously. What was it doing? Was that happiness? He couldn't tell. It wasn't like he could read the baby's mind!

It was then that Sméagol knew that caretaking for the baby would be the hardest thing he'd ever attempted to do in his life.

* * *

Bilbo's wails were heard miles within the mountain. Thorin was attempting to comfort him, but kept having to cover his ears from Bilbo's cries. In fact, he himself was a having a difficult time not letting his own tears fall. Fili and Kili were crying with Bilbo. They were all huddled up on the bed, crying their eyes out. Thorin had given up on comforting them, and instead stared into his son's crib that was now empty.

"Sire!" A dwarf rushed into the room. "I heard the dilemma! I came as soon as I could!"

"Good." Thorin growled, feeling his temper slowly rise within him as he stared at where his son should be laying. "I want you to lead out search parties. Not one, but as many as you can gather! And not only dwarves! Search the land for help! Anyone race that is willing, get them to form a search party as well! I have allies all over Middle Earth, so they should be willing. Hell… even the Elves would be helpful." Thorin told himself repeatedly that it was for his son. "When you find who took my son, take him back here, so that _I _may have the pleasure of dispensing his _punishment_! And you _will_ bring my son back alive. If he is… dead," Bilbo wailed louder than ever before. "then consider yourselves failures and banished from this mountain, do you understand?" he threatened darkly, looming over the smaller dwarf.

"Y-Yes sire. On my way, sire." The dwarf rushed out of the room in fright.

Thorin returned to Bilbo's side, his nephews backing off when they saw him coming. "Do not worry, my dear." He spoke, stroking his husband's quivering back soothingly. "He will be found. I promise you that. He will be back before you know it. I promise."

The crack in Thorin's voice told Bilbo he was losing his confidence. Thorin was worried as well. Just as worried as he was, in fact. So, Bilbo clung to Thorin's chest and cried into his shirt, while Thorin ducked his head down on Bilbo's and finally let his tears fall.

Frodo, their one and only son, was missing. And it was all their fault.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please Review if you enjoyed! :D


	3. Years Pass and a New Hobbit is in Dale

**Author's Note:** Sam has finally arrived! I love him so much! He's so cute! I just want to pinch his chubby little cheeks! XD

Thranduil has arrived as well! Things are heating up everyone!

And Bilbo and Thorin are still sad. :(

* * *

Two years passed since the kidnapping of Prince Frodo, and Thorin and Bilbo had grown weary.

Thorin was disheartened greatly. Every day was a burden to him, and he wished he could do nothing more than leave the mountain and search for his son himself. But the kingdom needed him. He was desperately important, and he couldn't leave the mountain due to his kingly duties.

Bilbo would barely leave his bed. He would lay there for hours on end, staring at the ceiling, contemplating that tragic day. Sometimes he would sleep all day, but be plagued by nightmares that were haunted by a hunched figure with glowing eyes, piercing his soul. He would wake in the middle of the night, and cry for his suffering, and his son.

On the rare occasion Bilbo did leave his room, someone was in the mountain, requesting a council with the King. Bilbo was always by Thorin's side, in the slightly smaller throne next to his husband's. He would sit, listen to the council or request of some sort, speak seldom or not at all, and then leave as soon as it was over.

Thorin saw the blank look in his face. The shimmering green eyes he had fallen for were now dull and lifeless. His glowing pale skin had grown paler, but lost its lighted aura. It killed Thorin to see Bilbo as such, but he knew the kidnapping had been the hardest on him. Bilbo was so relieved to live after Frodo's birth, and right when he was at his happiest, that happiness had been stolen from him. It was heartbreaking, seeing such a young creature be filled with such sorrow and pain. A frown on the hobbit's face was just… unfitting.

The mountain had simply been in bad spirits for the past years. The tragedy was shocking upon everyone, and they all sympathized for the royal family. It was as if the entirety of Erebor was convulsed in a dark shadow of depression and despair. Everyone was hit hard by the news, especially the ones who were friends of the Prince's parents. They had known the Prince as well and loved him dearly. But then, just like that… he was gone.

* * *

"Bilbo…" Thorin knocked on his own large doors, waiting for a response on the other side. There was none. So he knocked again. "Bilbo… please come out…" but there was still no answer. He sighed greatly. The door creaked loudly against the silence as he opened it. "Bilbo, you have to come with me… the _Mirkwood King Thranduil,_" he snarled out harshly, "has arrived, and wishes to speak with me."

Bilbo slowly rose from his place on the bed. He said no words of greeting, no words of acknowledgement; he adorned his long, red cloak, placed his silver crown upon his head, and walked out the door as if Thorin was not there at all.

Thorin stared after him for a moment or two before following.

People bowed largely as Bilbo passed them in the hall, but instead of bowing with a smile in return like he used to, he merely walked passed them, not even sparing a glance in their way. Thorin would walk behind him and apologize to those who dared to be confused about the hobbit's behavior. But Thorin was already being left behind by Bilbo. The hobbit was walking so briskly, Thorin almost had to jog to keep up. Just like he always had in the past few years.

The two arrived in the main hall minutes later. Thorin sat in his large throne and watched as Bilbo swiftly took his own seat beside him. Those green eyes stared ahead of him, as if he had nothing else to focus on. Thorin sighed and turned his attention to the Elven King standing down the steps before him. "What is it that you want, Thranduil?" Thorin ground through his teeth. "I do not wish to see you in my Mountain for much longer."

The Elven King tilted his head to the side, raising a delicate eyebrow in response. "I would think that a King, even a King of dwarves, would be a bit more… _hospitable_ when a guest is in their halls." His silky voice sounded through the room.

Thorin's fists clenched tightly around the arms of his throne, and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Bilbo's eyebrows narrow slightly. "You have heard of what has taken place in this Mountain, and you dare to tell me to be hospitable to the likes of you?" he growled. Thranduil's eyes turned down to the floor, but his head did not lower. "Now tell me what it is you came here for."

"Mirkwood is growing weak… financially." Thranduil paused to look for a reaction from Thorin, but there was none. Bilbo, however, glanced his way with narrowed eyes before quickly shifting his gaze back ahead of him once more. "We are running low on money. Soon, we will have none left to afford trade with the other Kingdoms of Middle Earth. And as I recall, Erebor has a dept to pay to us."

"What?" Thorin shouted, standing from his throne in a flash. "We owe nothing to you. Now take your leave! I do not wish to see you here again. Mirkwood can rot for all I care. You and your spiders!" he spat, meaning to take Bilbo's hand and leave.

"Do you not remember when you defeated Smaug the Terrible?" Thranduil's voice stopped Thorin in his tracks. "Who did your company call to for help when they were injured and in pain?" Thorin did not answer. Thranduil continued. "And when your consort was in danger of death, you used many healing salves and remedies from our people. And since you have recently reclaimed your gold from the dragon, it would only be fair and just that you… return the favor." Thranduil resisted the smirk that wanted to spread on his face.

Thorin spun on his heels to glare daggers at the Elven King. He would have opened his mouth to demand him to leave the Mountain and never come back.

But it was then that Bilbo spoke for the first time in a long time.

"You disgust me." Bilbo said plainly and bluntly, but only in a whisper. But it was nothing Thranduil's elf ears could not hear.

The Elven King's hard gaze turned to the hobbit, who was still staring ahead. Thorin stared at him as well, but it was more in awe than anything else. "I'm sorry." Thranduil said, not sounding sorry at all. "But did you say something?"

Bilbo turned his head slowly to glower at the King like Thorin, or anyone else for that matter, had never seen before. "You. _Disgust_. Me." Bilbo said, louder this time so that everyone in the room could hear. Fili and Kili, who were supposed to be listening in for instructional purposes, Balin, taking his place as Thorin's advisor, and Dwalin, who was really only there for the show.

Thranduil was taken aback at the hobbit's brashness. As was Thorin, but for a completely different reason. He didn't think Bilbo was even capable of being so rude. Not that he minded Bilbo being rude to one of his worst enemies. It was just… unexpected.

Thranduil regained his composure and stood straight once again, lifting his head up high. "And why, pray tell, do I _disgust_ you, Halfling." He questioned with slightly narrowed eyes.

Bilbo stood from his seat, brushing past Thorin's unmoving figure. He marched until he stood right in front of the Elven King and glared up at him. "How can you come in here, demanding money and gold from us when we have lost something much more valuable?" his voice was eerily calm. "I used to think that the Elves were the saviors of Middle Earth. I thought that they were the noble ones; the ones that everyone could trust and love, but I suppose I was wrong. If you had any heart, any sympathy, or any soul at all, you would understand that what you seek is what we cannot give you. Our gold is being put into paying the search parties looking MY SON! If we were to give any to your whining self, then we would have none left for ourselves. You can seek the aide of another Kingdom, because I am NOT giving you anything until my son is FOUND!"

The room froze. Fili and Kili were wide-eyed and a bit fearful. Balin was looking at the floor, rubbing his temples exasperatedly. Thorin was only watching for Thranduil's reaction. Thranduil himself was very overwhelmed with offense. Dwalin was merely impressed.

Without another word, Bilbo turned on his heels and stormed out of the hall.

"So." Thranduil was the first to speak, more to himself than anyone else. "There is a reward for the Prince's return now, is there?" he smirked as if he hadn't just been told off by a hobbit. He bowed to Thorin and the others. "I will take my leave now, dwarves. Good day to you all. And tell the Halfling that I sincerely apologize for… offending him." The Elven King laughed as he exited the Mountain.

Of course, the dwarves did not acknowledge his presence and simply stared after Bilbo's path of exit. It was Kili who spoke first.

"Durin's beard…" he muttered in awe.

"Who knew he could get so… angry…" Fili nearly shuddered at the memory of Bilbo's green eyes growing cold with anger.

Balin shook his head slowly. "I cannot believe he said those things to the _Elven_ King. Such a bad idea…"

Dwalin shrugged. "I thought it was rather impressive." He reasoned.

Balin rolled his eyes. "I knew you would." He replied bitterly. "You would have encouraged it, if you had the chance." His tone was slightly light-hearted.

Thorin ignored Dwalin's retaliation, and chose instead to chase after his fuming husband. He ran down the halls that led to their chamber. "Bilbo!" he called, slamming the door open.

Bilbo was lying on the bed, crying his eyes out. His wailing reminded Thorin of the day they found Frodo's crib empty. It sounded almost exactly the same. But his current crying was a lot less miserable than that day. "I should not have said any of that…" Bilbo choked out through his sobs. "I… I just… I wasn't…" his sobs came out harder and his voice trailed off.

Thorin sighed and enveloped Bilbo in tight embrace, and he could feel the wetness of the hobbit's tears run down his front. "I know, Bilbo." He said softly, running a hand up and down his back. "I understand. You had every right to yell at him. He was being a bloody, ungrateful bastard."

"It has been so long since I've felt like myself." Bilbo was muffled, but could still be heard. "Ever since that day… I haven't… felt right. Ever!" he buried more into Thorin's chest, wishing he could just disappear.

Thorin wanted to tell Bilbo that everything was fine, but Bilbo never believed him. The hobbit always blamed himself for everything. Especially Frodo's kidnapping. "If I had just stayed with him!" Bilbo cried through his tears. "The one moment I take my eyes off of him, he's taken from me!"

Eventually, Thorin had convinced Bilbo to stop crying and lay down for a while. He swore he wouldn't fall asleep, but Bilbo did anyway, and Thorin stayed by his side to keep the nightmares at bay.

* * *

Even more years passed. The days dragged on and each one got steadily better. The people of Erebor and Dale and even Laketown still spoke of the kidnapped prince, but many found it was an easy subject to ignore. It was merely a bad memory to most. But even so, the event was still remembered.

Bilbo had gotten better over the years. He spoke, took walks, read books. Just like he had before anything happened. But the only difference was that he didn't smile as often. Before everything, Bilbo would always smile. He would laugh and enjoy life with others like the free spirit he was, but now he didn't. The only times he would smile were rare, and the smile would be just barely visible; a ghost of what they used to be.

Thorin smiled less as well. Even compared to how little he smiled before. He barely smiled at his nephews, or his sister, or even Bilbo. It was as if he had forgotten how, and sometimes he would simply find himself doing it just barely without knowing it, and when he tried to do it again, he would forget how he had done it before.

* * *

"Please, you can't just give up!" Bilbo begged from his place on the throne. "He could still be out there somewhere!"

Before the King and Consort, stood a group of Rangers. Their leader, Aragorn, had broken the news to them that the Rangers could no longer spend their time searching for the lost Prince. "We have other duties we must partake in." Aragorn explained. "I am sorry, but it has been years since your son has been seen. And, though I hate to say it… there is no way of telling whether he is even alive or not." He paused, seeing the two before him wince. "My Rangers and I must move on to other jobs. But that does not mean we will not keep an eye out for him." he assured.

Bilbo held his head in his hands as Thorin rubbed harshly at his temples as the Rangers took their leave. "I can't believe this." The King growled roughly, standing from his seat.

"I can." Bilbo spoke through his hands. "I knew they would stop looking one day, but I wasn't expecting it to be now."

Twenty-seven years had passed since Frodo's disappearance, and the last of the search parties had finally given up on finding the Prince. It was nearly devastating to Bilbo and Thorin. The only way they could ever get their son back would be if they went out looking for him themselves.

But, from not needing to pay, the Mountains steadily gained their wealth back. The gold was beginning to pile up to the ceilings and everything was turning back to normal. The elves of Mirkwood tried once more to convince Thorin and Bilbo to give them a share, but Bilbo still refused to give them anything.

"You will get your gold the day my son returns to me." Bilbo announced the third time they were visited, this time by the Elven Prince, Legolas. "Whether he finds his way home by himself, or he is found by you and escorted home, I care not. Once he is back in the mountain, Erebor will give you what you seek."

Thorin was just amazed at how many things he wasn't in control of anymore.

* * *

"Father, the hobbit will not budge." Legolas told his father on returning back to the Mirkwood Palace. "He insists on having his son back before he gives us any financial aid."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Of course. I knew he would not budge. He may be hobbit, but being around those dwarves for so long has made him just as stubborn as one." He stood from his seat and went to finger the low leaves from the trees.

"What will we do now, Father? There is no one else we can turn to. We have been supported by others for long enough. Their support has only made our monetary gain static. But Erebor's gold could only increase it!"

Thranduil smiled. "I suppose we will have to give in to the Royal Consort's wishes." He reasoned.

Legolas' head tilted in confusion. "What do you mean, Father?" he asked. "All the search parties that were sent to look for the prince have long but disbanded. There is no one left willing to look for him. Even the elves of Rivendell have given up!"

Thranduil turned his head to his son and his smile grew larger. "Perhaps they have," he began. "But the elves of Mirkwood have not even attempted a search." At his Legolas' more confused look, he sighed and explained further. "We will start our own search party to find the prince, and when we do we will return him home and ask for even more gold in the process!" He strutted back to his seat proudly.

Legolas' eyebrows knitted. "But… why would we ask for more?" he questioned, taking a seat as well. "All we need is enough to pay for trade, and we will be fine."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Yes, but Erebor does not know how much money we need." He explained further. "We can trick them out of much of their gold if we wish to! It would be so simple! The hardest part would be locating the prince." The King thought for a moment, eyebrows narrowing.

Legolas stared at his father. It did sound like a well thought out plan, but it sounded awfully cruel. Sure, he wasn't an innocent little boy anymore, but he knew what was wrong and right. And he could tell that it was wrong to steal from the dwarves what they did not need. Their recent stubbornness had been easy to understand. Their Prince had disappeared, so why would they be willing. They would obviously be in a foul mood. And even if the Prince was returned, they would be reluctant to give any away.

"Father," Legolas was about to protest, by Thranduil interrupted.

"It is decided then," he announced. "It will be you and I, Legolas! We will search for the Prince and return him to the Mountain in exchange for gold."

The slight excitement in his father's face made Legolas reluctant to decline the offer. His father rarely did anything himself. He usually had servants do things for him, but apparently this was an exception. His eyes dropped to the floor as he mulled it over. Perhaps it wasn't so bad. The rulers of Erebor would have their son back in the end, and that was all that really mattered, wasn't it? "Fine." Legolas relented. "When will we start?"

"As soon as possible!" Thranduil exclaimed, stalking out of the hall briskly.

Legolas sighed and followed after him. He knew deep inside that he had just agreed to something completely ridiculous. But it was too late to back out.

* * *

"Finally here!" Sam sighed in relief, slouching over in exhaustion. His pack had grown increasingly heavy over the course of the last few months somehow. The longer he traveled, everything he carried became heavier, and his legs turned steadily weaker. The journey to Dale from the Shire was a long one, indeed, but Sam did it for a good reason. He could never find work in the Shire, so he decided to broaden his horizons and travel to another place. Dale was one of the most prosperous of cities in Middle Earth, so he had decided to start there.

Straightening his back once more, Sam tugged his pack further up his back and entered the streets of Dale. Somehow, he was able to dodge all the little kids running through the street, playing, while carrying all his luggage (which was a lot). He walked further until he reached the first inn he could see.

"Hello there." A man said as he walked through the inn doors. He sat behind a counter, fingering through a small book with his feet propped up on the counter. He jolted when he heard the door open, and immediately put his book down, standing from his seat and trying his best to look professional. But he was highly confused to see who opened the door. "A hobbit in Dale? Wander away from home, lad?" he joked.

Sam narrowed his eyes slightly. He had always had trust issues, but this guy was just being rude. "I came here for my own reasons." He explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

The man merely laughed and shook his head. "Alright, alright, I'll stop asking. I guess you really aren't the first hobbit I've seen in these parts." Sam was about to ask what he meant, but the man continued to talk. "What will you be needing this fine day, Mister…"

"Samwise." Sam replied after a moment. "Samwise Gamgee. I need to rent a room." Was all he said.

The man nodded. "Well, I do suppose that's why you came to an inn." He joked again, but Sam didn't laugh. "Anyway, how many nights will you be staying here?" he asked.

"Erm…" Sam turned down to the floor in thought. He didn't know how many nights exactly. He didn't have much of a plan from the beginning. All he had had planned was going to Dale and getting a job. He didn't think about living conditions. "Umm…" he hesitated, causing the man to raise an eyebrow. "I… haven't really figured that out yet." He admitted lamely.

The man chuckled once again, leaning over the counter to write in a log. "Ah, that's fine. Honestly, we could use more customers. We're running short these days. Guess people don't really want to come here anymore." He rambled, sounding a bit sad near the end.

Sam tilted his head in confusion. "Why's that?" he asked, taking the keys he was handed.

"Oh, probably lots of reasons. The city is getting old to some folk. We're being shown up lately by other cities in the realm. Laketown, for instance." The man huffed. "Place is packed nowadays. Don't know why, but it is. I guess the town just looks nice this time of year. Especially the river!" He added, returning to his relaxed position on his chair. "But it could also be because of Erebor."

Sam was even more confused. "Why would it be Erebor?" he questioned further. "Isn't that the greatest dwarf kingdom in the land?"

"Aye, it is." The man nodded. "But ever since the tragedy… people have been afraid." He explained ominously. "They became afraid of the King. Afraid of how angry he was. He's known for having a temper, he is." The man flipped his book open once more. "But his Consort was a much kinder sort. He was a hobbit like yourself. But then _that day _changed everything. People say the poor little thing went _mad_ with grief."

Sam's eyebrows shot to his hairline. A hobbit had married a dwarf? Where had they even met? Was the hobbit forced into it or did he actually consent? He supposed it didn't matter; it wasn't his business to pry in, but he couldn't help but wonder. "What happened… _that day_?" Sam mimicked the way the man had said it.

The man sighed and placed his book back on the counter. "Are you just going to stand there and ask questions all day?" he scolded lightly. "Go put your things in your room and then come back down. I'm sure carrying that stuff all the way from the Shire was a right horrid task."

Sam was about to ask how the ma knew he was from the Shire, but decided against it. He probably just assumed because most hobbits were from the Shire. "Alright. Thank you, sir." He relented, heading to the stairs across the inn.

"My name is Mr. Underhill." The man replied with a smile.

Sam gave a small smile in reply, but quickly left and ducked into the stairwell. The key told him he was in room one. There must have really been no one there. He trudged up the stairs slowly and tiredly. His legs were more than ready to give out at any given moment. He nearly fainted by the time he reached the room. Turning the key in the lock, he sighed greatly at the sight of the comfortable bed in the center of the cozy room. He threw his pack on the ground instantly, and collapsed on the bed with a groan. He snuggled up into the warm, white sheets and smiled. He hadn't felt soft sheets in months.

A knock at his door broke him from his peace. "Hello?" it was Mr. Underhill calling from the other side.

Sam hurried to open the door. "Hello, Mr. Underhill, sir." He answered politely.

"Hello Mister Gamgee." Mr. Underhill smiled. "Is the room alright for you?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"Yes sir!" Sam replied enthusiastically. "I'm only relieved to finally have a bed again after so long."

Mr. Underhill nodded with a smile. "Good. May I step inside?" he asked.

Sam eyed the man suspiciously. He wasn't usually so carefree as to let people he met not too long ago into his room. "What do you want?" he defended, closing off the door a bit more.

Mr. Underhill laughed loudly. "You wanted to know what happened _that day_, didn't you?" he mocked. "I supposed maybe you would want to sit in the comfort of your own room when we talk? You look a bit worn out."

Sam would have defended himself, but a yawn escaped his lips before he could get anything out. He realized then that he would like to lie down for a while. "Sure, I guess." He stepped aside and opened the door more to allow Mr. Underhill into the room.

"Now, you want to know what happened _that day_?" Mr. Underhill repeated once he was seated at the corner of the room, while Sam took a place on the bed. At Sam's nod, he continued. "Well, it all started after The King and the hobbit got married. The hobbit got pregnant soon into the marriage, and word had it that the King was actually very happy. But then the hobbit got sick.

"You probably know that male hobbits don't usually survive giving birth." Sam nodded again. "Well, the King was devastated when he heard the news. He tried many cures and medicines but the hobbit never got any better. Finally, as a last resort, he summoned a wizard to help. But even he could do nothing.

"But the wizard did speak of some magical artifact that could save the hobbit's life. So the King and a few of his companions set off for the Misty Mountains. And weeks later, they returned. The hobbit gave birth about a week or two later to a son."

"What was the magical artifact?" Sam inquired, intrigued by the story.

Mr. Underhill shrugged. "Nobody knows. The King never said a word about it. When he returned, he went through the streets with hands guarding his pockets and he acted almost closed off from the rest of the world.

"But anyway, back to the story. They had a son, a hobbit, and all was well in the Mountain. The King and Consort were happy which meant that everyone else was happy. But it didn't last long. A few months after the babe was born, he was kidnapped. Right under the rulers' noses."

Sam gasped and his eyes widened. "Who kidnapped him?"

"They never found him. Never found the Prince either. There were millions of people that went out looking for the Prince, but none of the parties were successful. Some say the Prince is still out there, and some say he's dead. But there's no telling where he is, or what his condition is."

The story ended, meeting dead silence. Sam sat on the bed with his mouth gaping open, staring at Mr. Underhill with blinking brown eyes. "What happened to the rulers of Erebor?"

"I can't say, personally. Never had contact with them. Not many in Dale have." He stood from his chair and stretched extravagantly. "But I suppose it would be hard anyway. Ever since then, the Mountain has been guarded real heavily."

Sam stared at the floor for a while. He wondered what exactly happened to the Prince. What did he look like? What was his personality like? Most importantly, was he even alive? Sam would be rather disappointed if he wasn't. It would be a sad ending to a sad tale. He never liked sad tales in the first place, so he definitely did not like sad endings.

"Well, I should probably leave you to your rest, Mister Gamgee." Mr. Underhill said suddenly. "You've had a long trip, I'd imagine. Just get some well needed sleep." The man patted Sam on the shoulder and left.

To be honest, Sam didn't really want to sleep anymore. He wanted to hear more about that Prince. The story was a very intriguing one, and he desperately wanted to know more. More than that, he wanted to meet the Prince. He wanted to go out on an adventure and possibly be the one to do the impossible! He wanted to be the one that was praised in the end.

But wait. If he _did_ find the Prince, then he would imagine that there would be a reward from the rulers for his return. If Sam returned him, then maybe he would get all the money he needed, and then some! But his conscience told him that is was wrong to use people for your own personal gain. Sam knew it was right, but he just couldn't help it.

He wanted to do something for once. He had come to Dale, hoping to get a job and he would find one. But he didn't want to be a Gardener anymore, as much as he loved his plants. He wanted to do something big, something acknowledgeable. Something people would remember.

He decided tomorrow, he would go to Erebor and, if he could, arrange a council with the rulers. He was excited as he covered himself with the sheets and snuggled down in the pillows, ruffling his curly, blonde hair. But the stirring in his gut told him he was also just that bit afraid of being thrown off the mountain.

But, hopefully, that wouldn't happen.

* * *

Bilbo sighed as he turned the page of his book. He was almost finished with the last chapter, and the book had been the only thing that kept his mind off of things. The Mountain, his duties, his troubles… and it just barely kept him distracted from remembering his son. But nothing could truly make him forget.

He lifted his eyes to the dying fire he sat before in a fluffy armchair. His thoughts began to drift, completely forgetting about the book the book he held in his hands. Instead, he remembered the good days he had when Frodo was born. The miniature adventures the babe would go on, with Bilbo chasing frantically after him. Bilbo smiled. Even though Frodo was not with him now, he at least had the good memories they shared.

A knock on the door made him jump. "Come in," Bilbo called weakly, wiping the slight wetness from his eyes. Thorin stepped into the room. Bilbo tilted his head as his husband walked in, looking thoroughly confused. "Whatever is the matter?" Bilbo questioned, placing a ribbon to mark his spot in the book and placing it on the table.

"There is… someone that requests a council with us…" Bilbo was about to ask why that was so puzzling, but Thorin continued. "It is… a hobbit."

Bilbo stood immediately. "A hobbit? But what would a hobbit be doing in Erebor?" he paused. "Besides me?"

Thorin laughed for a second, but it died quickly. "I have no idea. But we might as well see what they want." He reasoned with a small shrug.

Bilbo followed him out the doors and down the hall leading to the throne room. They picked up Fili and Kili on the way, seeing as they had to observe the every meeting their Uncles attended. They reached the room after a slight waiting period where they had to wake Kili from his mid-day nap.

The hobbit's head jerked up when the family entered the room. He watched as Thorin and Bilbo took their seats in their respective thrones, and Fili and Kili stood behind them, for observation. Bilbo thought the hobbit looked quite scared, and he felt sympathy rise in his chest. He knew it was hard to be in a new place, and it was intimidating standing before royalty.

They sat in silence for a moment, the blonde hobbit shifting his weight, and Bilbo and Thorin waiting for him to say something. Finally Thorin had had enough of the waiting. "Speak hobbit! You are wasting our time with this." He demanded.

"Thorin!" Bilbo scolded. "There is no need to be so rough with the poor thing." He turned back to the frightened hobbit. "Now what was it that you came here for today, Mister…"

"Samwise Gamgee, your highness." The hobbit replied, immediately, with a stiff bow. "I, uh… I came here because… well…" Sam had a hard time getting the words out. His eyes darted around the room frantically searching for something, anything, that could help his brain function properly.

Bilbo ignored Fili and Kili's sniggering behind him. Instead, he stood with his widened eyes trained on Sam. "Gamgee?" he repeated, much to the confusion of everyone in the room. "Do not tell me… are you… perhaps related to Hamfast Gamgee?" he questioned.

Sam nodded carefully. "Yes, your highness. He's my father. Why do you ask?"

Bilbo smiled largely for the first time he had in years. "Oh my, it is wonderful to meet you!" He exclaimed, rushing down the steps, ignoring Thorin's attempts to stop him. "I cannot believe I am meeting you! But I am glad to hear that Hamfast has settled down." His smile wavered slightly, but he regained composure quickly.

Sam's head tilted in confusion. "Begging your pardon, your highness, but… how do you know my dad?"

"He worked with me back when we were servants for Smaug. He took care of the garden every day, and I would take my secret walks around the same time he was outside. We got to talking about many things, and became such good friends." He smiled at the memory. "I wonder what he must have thought when I suddenly disappeared. And when Smaug was defeated. I'm sure he was surprised. Oh, I would love to see him again! Is he with you?"

Sam winced at how hopeful Bilbo looked. "That was… actually why I came, your highness." He spoke softly. "My dad is getting ill, and there's a lot we have to pay for his medical treatment, and well… we don't have a lot of money."

Bilbo's face had fallen in the instant he heard the tone in Sam's voice. His hand flew to his mouth. "What is he ill with? Is it… fatal?"

"I have no idea." Sam shrugged sadly. "The only medics we've had look him over can't figure it out. They just assume we need to take care of him until he either lives or… dies." His voice cracked near the end.

Bilbo's face hardened. "That is terrible, and I will keep him in my thoughts and hopes for as long as he is ill, but if you came to ask for money, I am sorry. I cannot just give anything away for free now. I have made an impression with the elves of Mirkwood, and I would not like to see the result of them discovering I've given gold to a hobbit with a sick father instead of them."

"Forget what they think!" Thorin spoke, rising from his throne as well and making his way down the steps. "The elves can start a war with us, for all I care. I can't believe you at least agreed to give them money at all, whether it is now or later." He snarled.

"Oh, no I'm not asking to just be given money!" Sam shook his head furiously. "I don't believe in just taking things. I want to earn it. I wanted a… job of sorts." He cleared his throat, as the two royals waited for him to explain. "You see, I just arrived in Dale not too long ago, and I heard talk of the… incident… that happened years ago."

Bilbo's face dropped and his eyes lowered to the floor. Sam regretted bringing the incident up, seeing that it had disheartened Bilbo greatly. Thorin stepped forward with a sneer, however, causing Sam to take a fearful step back. "How dare you speak of things you know nothing of." He growled out.

Bilbo placed a hand onto Thorin's arm. "Let him speak, Thorin." He said softly, lifting his gaze to Sam's. "I want to hear what he has to say."

Sam breathed heavily, feeling the heavy gaze's that were harshly pinning him to the floor. "Well… I heard your story and I… I wanted to help you." He explained truthfully. "It was an awful thing to happen to you, and then all your search parties stopped searching. And I was wondering if… I could have a chance to go looking for him, your highness."

The two stared at him for a moment, Thorin with a raised eyebrow and skeptical face, and Bilbo with a look of mounted shock. A moment passed silently before Sam coughed awkwardly, not really enjoying being stared down more than before.

Bilbo tilted his head now, giving Sam an evaluating once over. "How old are you, Samwise?" he asked with stern eyes.

Sam swallowed thickly. "Thirty-three, your highness." He knew it was bad to lie to royalty, but he had to. There was no way he would ever have a chance at work if they knew he was underage.

Bilbo's green eyes bored into his own, and they made him slightly more nervous. "You are really thirty-three?" he questioned. "Are you sure you're not… _lying_ to me?"

Sam knew then and there he was done for. Bilbo saw right through him, for sure. His analytical gaze was burning through his skull. "I'm sorry I lied, I'm only twenty-nine!" Sam found himself blurt out uncontrollably.

Bilbo sighed. "Just as I thought." He placed a comforting hand on Sam's shoulder. "I appreciate you wanting to help us, Sam. I really do. And I thank you for asking to earn the money instead of taking it. But I cannot ask you to go on such a dangerous quest while you're that young."

"B-But I'm only a few years off from thirty-three!" Sam protested, somehow gaining the courage to stand his ground. "I'm really not that young! I just…" he stopped there, not really knowing what to say.

"Normally I would stay out of this, not being exactly well-known with how hobbits age." Thorin spoke suddenly. "But I do agree with Bilbo. Even I know that for your kind, twenty-nine is much too young for a job like that."

"You shouldn't even be traveling on your own!" Bilbo scolded, placing his hands on his hips. "You could have gotten yourself killed on your journey!"

"But I didn't." Sam mumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the floor.

"I thank you so much for wanting to do this for us," Bilbo said. "But I'm sorry, I cannot let you do it. I won't risk a young, innocent life for something that seems so… hopeless." The hand on Sam's shoulder disappeared. "This council is over. I'm sorry."

With Thorin's hand in his, Bilbo walked back out of the main hall. Sam stood in his place, staring at the floor in disappointment. He was honestly expecting to be shot down, but it hurt either way. Their words hadn't made any sense in his ears. If he was willing to help, then why wouldn't they let him? Everyone else had given up, but Sam was still willing, and when he asked they told him no. Why?

"Oi! You!" Sam looked up from the floor in surprise to find the two young dwarves that had been watching behind the thrones running up to him. "I'm Fili, and this is my younger brother Kili." The blonde dwarf introduced. "We just wanted to tell you real quick, before you leave; please don't listen to them!"

Kili nodded in agreement with his brother. "Our Uncles haven't been the same since our cousin went missing! It's strange not having them act like they usually do. We know they would do anything to have him back!"

"Fili! Kili!" A booming voice, Thorin's, Sam assumed, sounded from the door, causing the brothers to jump.

"Just think about it!" The brothers said unanimously, before rushing off through the main hall doors, leaving Sam alone.

* * *

Sam contemplated what had gone down at the council later that evening in his room. He laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the wind blowing harshly on the window.

First, he remembered what Mr. Underhill had said about the Royal Consort, and how everyone believed him to have gone insane. Sam, however, didn't quite think that Bilbo was insane. He seemed normal, just like any other hobbit Sam had met. There was nothing wrong with him, albeit maybe he was a bit sad and less cheerful than most hobbits.

Then, he remembered what the royals had told him. Sam was too young to go searching. Sam wasn't old enough. But that was their only excuse. He had wanted to stay and argue, but he was rushed out of the main hall the second Fili and Kili had left.

Last, he remembered what Fili and Kili had asked. They had faith in him. They wanted him to go. Maybe their uncles would be back to normal if their son was found. They would be less sad and happier at least. Sam smiled at the thought. He didn't like knowing that somewhere out there, someone was miserable. He wanted to make as many people as he could happier in life.

And he would start with the King and Consort of Erebor. The next day, he planned as he climbed into bed for the night, he would pack his things once more, and begin his journey in searching for the lost Prince. And he would look all day every day, even searching the woods, in spite of the dangers.

Yes, Sam was doing it. He was going against the rules of Dwarvish royalty, but he knew he would be thanked in the end. That is, if he was successful.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Frodo will be in the next chapter I promise! He'll be the first person we meet with! Don't worry!

Love you all! Cookies to all reviewers!


	4. Frodo's Drawings and Sam's Promises

**Author's Note:** Didn't take long at all to find an idea for this chapter. I'll admit to that much.

P.S. I love Frodo. He's my little baby, no matter how old he is.

* * *

Frodo woke to the sun shining down on him through his open window. He blearily blinked his eyes open and covered them instantly when the bright light shined in his eyes. He blinked away the brightness, and was soon able to put his hand down and stand from his bed. Stretching, he remembered the dream he had had last night.

He had had the same recurring dream for as long as he could remember. The only thing about it was that Frodo could never remember exactly what would happen in it. All he would remember was a mountain, dwarves, a hobbit, and a ring. The same ring, in fact, that Frodo wore around his neck.

He fingered the ring carefully, as if it could actually break. He had been told long ago by his adopted father, Sméagol, that the ring was a sacred item, and that Frodo must never take it off, or the result would be fatal.

"Frodo! Are you awake!" Sméagol called, from the other room.

Frodo quickly tucked the ring back into his night shirt and swallowed thickly. "Yes! I just woke up!" He called back.

Sméagol entered the room with a small smile. "Good!" he came up and patted Frodo on the shoulder. "I just wanted to tell you that I would be going out to buy more supplies. We're running out of food, I'm afraid. That certainly won't do!" he laughed.

Frodo forced a laugh and shuffled his feet a bit. His next breath was large and even, so as to prepare himself for what was coming next. "Father… I know you usually don't let me, but… maybe this time… could I come with you?" his voice was timid and he watched his father out of his eyelashes as his face was turned downwards.

Sméagol sighed heavily. Frodo could see his shoulders slump forward and knew that he was exhausted from hearing Frodo ask to go outside all the time. "No, Frodo." He said shortly. "How many times must I tell you; You can_not_ leave this tower _ever_!"

Frodo hung his head further and plopped back on his bed sadly. "I know, I remember. But… I just want to see what's out there!" he pointed to his window with hopeful eyes. "I look outside every day and am taken away by the beauty of the sky and the grass and the trees and the whole of the forest! I want to go out there and explore, see the world!" he jumped up, suddenly overcome by an urge of excitement, and ran to his window, staring out at the pink and orange sunrise. "I'm sick of reading about the world in my books! I want to experience it for myself! I want to see everything!"

There was a long silence where Sméagol watched Frodo from the center of the room with a frown on his face. "Frodo," Sméagol turned Frodo around, holding him at arm's length. "My Precious Frodo, do I not tell you why I keep you up here?" he asked, calmly.

Frodo sighed and nodded reluctantly. "Yes, you have." He answered.

Sméagol nodded. "That's right! I do it to keep you safe. You would cause more trouble for yourself than you know out there." He reasoned, taking the chain around Frodo's neck and pulling the ring out from under his nightshirt. "This ring, this precious ring, is very sacred. If anyone catches you with it, they will want to take it from you, and you'll die! And if they find out that you and the ring have similar powers then… they might take you as well. And I just want to protect you from people like that, Precious. That's all there is to it."

Frodo crossed his arms over his chest and tucked into himself a bit. "I know." He replied once more. "I'm just… curious… I suppose." He said with a hint of a smile on his face.

Sméagol smiled back and leaned to give Frodo a big hug. "I'll be back soon, Precious. You won't be alone for long." He pulled away. "Tell you what, I'll pick you up some more books while I'm out. How about that? Anything you want in particular?"

Frodo thought for a moment. He glanced over at his bookshelf and skimmed his eyes over the few book spines that lined the shelves. He had almost every work by one particular author, and he had never heard of any other books that were out there. But then he thought back to his dream. A mountain, dwarves, and a hobbit invaded his mind every night. He was suddenly whisked into his imagination where those things in his dream meant something important. They were all real, and the gorgeous mountain was where he lived. Instead of the dark and slightly depressing tower.

"Something about mountains." Frodo answered, staring off out the window again. "I just want a book about mountains, or dwarves, or hobbits, or even all three!" he exclaimed suddenly with a large smile on his face. "Anything pertaining to those three things. Anything."

Sméagol laughed. "You really are something, my Precious." He replied lightly. "I'll look around, but I don't know what I will find. There won't be any promises." He opened the door, and was about to step out of Frodo's room, but turned around to look back at Frodo. The boy was staring out the window, unmoving and leaning out as if he could see so much more that way. Sméagol swallowed hard, but his worried demeanor quickly vanished. "Goodbye! I'll be back soon!" he called.

Frodo finally turned around, as if he hadn't known someone was in the room with him. But in a second, he smiled and waved. "Goodbye, Father!" he exclaimed. "Have fun!"

Once Sméagol left, and Frodo was sure that his father was out of earshot, he leaped for joy and rushed over to his wardrobe. As he dressed for the day, his mind raced with excitement. He couldn't wait to see what kind of books his father would bring back. Maybe one of them could answer why he always had those strange dreams? Who knew? But Frodo was excited either way. His curiosity was overwhelming him, and his mind couldn't take it anymore. He was going to explode one day.

But he figured it was the excitement and curiosity that kept him energetic all the time. It kept his heart beating and his legs moving and his head spinning. He thrived off of his desire to see the world. And he knew that one day, either soon or far off, his father would allow him to take at least one step outside and see the world, touch the grass, breath the fresh, inviting air. It had always been a passing hope for him, but he couldn't wait until the hope became reality.

He sighed dreamily as he pulled on his favorite blue shirt and black pants. Once his suspenders were adjusted, he rushed over to his window once more and pulled himself up on the sill, allowing his feet to dangle outside as he watched the birds fly and chirp their morning songs. He knew he could just go downstairs and walk out the door, and his dream would come true, but he didn't want to make his father upset. Sméagol did so much for him, and wanted to keep him safe. Frodo knew disobeying him wasn't the way to tell him 'thank you'.

His favorite part of the day was morning. The sky was so many different colors, and all of them blended together so well, forming a beautiful masterpiece that none could truly capture in a mere painting or word description. Frodo remembered when he was little how he would draw crude pictures of the sky and forest and trees. But they were all he drew. They were the only things he knew of. Except for one or two things.

Frodo spun on his 'seat' and jumped back down from the windowsill. After a moment's thought, he scuffled over to his wardrobe again. Once he opened the large doors, he ignored the clothes hanging from the rack and instead kneeled down on the floor and shuffled through the mess that was at the bottom of the wardrobe. He continued to do so for a few minutes, until h finally found what he was looking for.

Smiling largely, he pulled out all the loose papers that were grouped together in a large clump and laid them all out on the floor. The papers each had a drawing on them, drawings that he made when he was very young. Looking at them all, Frodo couldn't believe he ever thought that they were somewhat good. But he had been just a child when he made them, so there was no real blame to put on anything.

He moved his gaze to each picture in turn. One had a cluster of green and brown on it, and Frodo assumed it was supposed to be the forest outside his window. The next picture was of the sky in the morning that Frodo loved so much. The colors in the picture were poorly blended, but you could see the effort that was put into trying to blend them. Frodo laughed a bit and moved on to the next picture. It was of a river, even though Frodo had never seen a real river before. The water was a bluish purple as Frodo had always imagined it to be. There were bunches of flowers lining the water's edge, just like one of his fairy tale books had described a gently flowing brook.

Then, Frodo reached the pictures he had drawn of his dream; the ones he had hidden from his father all those years. There were pictures of a large mountain that was blocked off by monstrous gates that would tower over him if they were real. The mountain was a bleak grey and black with a bit of brown thrown in. Though, there was no vegetation of any kind. No flowers, no trees, and no rivers were anywhere to be seen. But Frodo didn't really care that much. The mountain didn't need to be colorful to be beautiful, because it was beautiful in its own way.

The second picture was of two people. Frodo didn't know who they were, what they were, or even if they were real, but Frodo saw them in his dreams every night. One had a thick, short beard and was slightly taller than the second. He wore navy blue with a bit of silver and black thrown in as well and on his feet were very heavy-looking boots. Frodo assumed that this one was a dwarf because he was sure the other was a hobbit and the hobbit wasn't that much shorter. The hobbit had honey colored hair and wore a long red cloak with a white shirt and brown pants. Both of them, however, had crowns adorning their heads. The hobbit had a silver one, and the dwarf had a golden one.

There were more pictures of other dwarves that didn't look like the crowned one, but the two crowned ones were the ones he saw the most in his dreams. They were the ones he recognized the most, next to another pair of dwarves. In the other pair, one had blonde hair and the other had brown hair, and Frodo remembered them looking slightly similar. He always heard faint laughing from them in his dreams, but he never knew why or what they were laughing at. Other than that, he knew nothing about them.

Frodo sighed as he looked at the bad pictures. He wanted to know why the things in them were haunting his dreams for so long. Thankfully they were dreams and not nightmares, but curiosity was still driving poor Frodo up the wall. Those dreams had been with him since he turned about twelve years old. He was about to turn twenty-nine.

Frodo finally decided it was time to put the pictures away, and gathered them up once more and placed them carefully back at the bottom of his wardrobe, so they wouldn't tear or rip. He spent so much time looking at those pictures when his father was away, almost all of them were imprinted permanently in his mind. He could remember each one's color scheme if he wanted to (even though the color scheme was really only three colors for each picture).

He sat in front of the wardrobe for a while, staring at the intricate patterns on the doors and handles. It was so boring in the tower. He never had anything to do besides read, eat, sleep, and stare out the window. And staring out the window was not enough for him anymore. He wanted to see everything for real, and not through a hole in his wall. And he didn't just want to see what he could already see. He wanted to see everything.

He wanted to see the mountain he saw in his dreams.

* * *

Thorin made his way through the halls of Erebor quickly, his pace coming closer to a run with every step he took. He wanted to make it back to his chambers quickly so he could see Bilbo for a short while before he had to return to his duties. He ignored anyone that tried to get in his way or start a conversation while he was walking, and soon, he was jogging.

When he reached the room, he burst the doors open harshly and stood there panting. Bilbo was in the room and had jumped when the door slammed open. He was now staring at Thorin with wide, surprised eyes. "Thorin," he began slowly, placing his book down beside him and standing from his seat. "Is there something wrong with you?"

Thorin closed the door behind him with a sigh. "I simply wanted to make it back before I was dragged away once more." He answered, plopping down on the bed with his head in his hands. "It gets tiring, being King. I miss the days when my grandfather still ruled."

Bilbo came up behind him on the bed and started rubbing his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. "I'm sorry, Thorin." He said, resting his forehead against the back of Thorin's head. "I know it's hard and tedious sometimes, but do you want the kingdom to fall?"

"No."

"See? So isn't it worth it, being so busy all the time?"

"But I never get to see you anymore." Thorin turned around and stared Bilbo in the eye. "I married you because I love you, and I love seeing you. But ever since we got married, I've had so little time to see you."

Bilbo smiled sadly. "I know, Thorin. I miss you too. But it's not like we don't see each other at night, right?" he questioned. "Isn't that something to look forward to?"

"I suppose." Thorin said, turning his back to Bilbo once again. "So how was your day?" He asked, changing the subject.

Bilbo suddenly grew gleeful and moved to sit on Thorin's lap. "My book begins selling in stores today!" he exclaimed, genuinely excited.

Thorin smiled. "Ah, yes! I had forgotten about your book."

While Bilbo was still closed off from the world long ago, he had started writing a book about the adventure he had in the forest with the thirteen dwarves. He had written from start to finish about those two days that had changed his life. Most adults that heard the tale didn't believe it to be true, and that was fine with Bilbo. He told himself he would rather have children learn of his adventure instead of adults anyway. It did seem more like a childish story. He hadn't spent long on the book, for he hadn't wanted to make it too long. It was going to be a children's story after all. Once it was done, he sent it to a bookshop in dale and more copies were printed. The actual release date, however, had been withheld. And finally, the day had come.

Bilbo nodded. "Yes, the bookshops should be filled with stacks of my books. Did I tell you what I called it? 'A Hobbit's Tale'. I thought that was a nice title. You know, for a children's story about a hobbit." He smiled.

Thorin smiled back. He loved how Bilbo practically glowed whenever he talked about his book. It was like nothing had ever changed. They were still newlyweds that had met only weeks ago, and nothing tragic had ever happened. It would be nice to have everything back to that way. But Thorin knew it would never happen. Bilbo was still affected by their son's disappearance, and it was visible. No matter how much Bilbo smiled, you could see the pain in his eyes.

That's what pained Thorin the most.

* * *

"Frodo, I'm back!"

Frodo practically squealed with excitement. He threw the book he had been reading out of his hands across the room, jumped off his bed, and rushed out of his room as quickly as possible. His heart was racing as he hurried down the stairs to the main entrance of the tower. He couldn't wait to see what his father had brought back for him. He wanted answers to his dreams and he could feel that today was the day it would happen.

He reached the bottom of the stairs before Sméagol could even start his way up them. The older hobbit was startled when Frodo suddenly appeared in front of him, but he laughed the shock away. "My precious, you sure are eager, aren't you?" he mocked, lifting a specific bag in his hands. "Here are the books I found that I could afford. I couldn't find much on mountains, but I found many on dwarves, and one about hobbits. Or at least, _a_ hobbit." He held the bag out to Frodo.

Frodo squealed for the second time that day, grabbed the bag and rushed back upstairs. He could Sméagol laughing behind him, but he ignored it and instead ran back into his room once again, and shut the door loudly behind him. He settled himself on the bed and pulled the books out of the brown bag one by one and inspected each one carefully. There was one book about the mountainous ranges of Middle Earth and Frodo immediately began flipping through it. He didn't really see anything familiar, but he did find an interesting chapter about the Misty Mountains. Other than that, the book was useless to Frodo and his dream.

The next couple of books were about dwarves. The history of dwarves, the main dwarf kingdoms, dwarven customs, and dwarven literature. The problem was, the books were written in another language. Frodo had never seen it before, for had only ever seen the language of men, and the language of elves. The dwarf books were written in what he assumed was Khuzdul, the language of the dwarves. He wished at that moment he could read it so he could study the books more carefully. But in one he was about to throw away, he accidentally flipped to a page that had a picture. A picture of a mountain.

Frodo couldn't contain his gasp. The mountain looked exactly like the one he saw in his dreams. It was monstrous and huge; so tall that the very tip of it touched the sky. At the front of the mountain, a large gate blocked it from intruders and enemies. Frodo smiled. This was the mountain he was looking for. It was the exact same one. He searched the picture for any more important details, and in his search he found the picture's title. "The Lonely Mountain... Erebor." Frodo read aloud. He was confused as to why the title was in a different language than the rest of the book, but tossed the thought aside.

Smiling, Frodo took a ribbon from his bedside table and used it to mark the page. He set it beside him carefully, and began searching through the other books on dwarves. He marked every page he found that had a picture of the Lonely Mountain, which was a lot. Soon, there was a stack of five thick books sitting next to Frodo with ribbons sticking out of each one. Frodo sighed contentedly as he admired his work of the books. He had definitely done his research well.

Finally, he reached for the very last book in the bag. "_A Hobbit's Tale_?" Frodo read aloud with confusion written over his face. Why had his father bought him that book? It was short and looked like it was a children's book. Frodo sighed as he looked at the cover for a longer moment. He knew he probably wouldn't find anything from it, but he also knew there wouldn't be any harm in looking. Plus, he wanted a new book to actually read anyway.

He reclined back on his pillows and flipped to the first page. His attention was caught immediately by the first sentence. He continued to read through the book, his blue eyes never leaving the pages. They ran from side to side, scanning every word the book had to say. He gasped at the part where the hobbit was about to be killed, but sighed in relief when the hobbit escaped and ran away. He had to admit that, for a children's story, the book was very intriguing.

He spent the next few hours reading the book intently, his mind muddled by the plot and characters that were taking over his mind. He was so engaged in the story, he didn't hear his father calling for him from the other room. Even when Sméagol burst into the room, Frodo's eyes didn't leave the page. He didn't even flinch.

"Frodo!" Sméagol called again. When Frodo still didn't answer, Sméagol rolled his eyes, marched over and ripped the book out of Frodo's hands. Frodo gasped and reached for the book again, but Sméagol held it out of his reach.

"Please give it back, father!" Frodo pleaded. "I was just about to get to the exciting part!" he argued, not giving up on trying to grab the book back.

Sméagol shook his head and walked away back to the door with the book in his hands. "I'm sorry, but you can have it back once you're done with your supper. You've been cooped up in this room for far too long."

Frodo hurriedly followed Sméagol out of the room, only in an attempt to sneak attack his father and take the book back. Unfortunately, Sméagol saw it coming and ducked out of the way, causing Frodo to stumble forward and fall on the floor. "You will get the book back later." Sméagol said once more and continued down the hallway.

Frodo stared after him sadly. His father never did approve of his love of books. He didn't like the things they taught Frodo. All the adventure stories and poetry books and books filled with paintings of the outside world; Sméagol felt that they taught Frodo bad things. Frodo, of course, thought that was ridiculous, but he couldn't argue with his father. At least he still bought the books.

Frodo picked himself up off the ground and followed his father, brushing his clothes off as he went. At least he could just eat fast and then get his book back.

* * *

Sam had spent almost all day in town. He knew the journey would be long and hard, so he made sure he went to the market to purchase some supplies as well as food for the trip. But most of the time, he was thinking about how his journey would start. Where would he go first? He had no idea where to start.

He stood by his bed and stared at the pack he had brought with him to Dale. It was stuffed full with food, a blanket, a fire kit, and his pillow. The pack was very large and Sam didn't know if he would be able to carry it for as long as he needed. Well, he had when he was traveling to Dale, but he just didn't know if he could do it again. The first time had been hard enough on him, he didn't want to do it a second time.

But it was for King and Consort of Erebor! He had to do it! If it would make a whole kingdom happy, Sam would gladly risk everything! Plus, the Prince could be in pain somewhere! There was no telling what was happening to him! The poor prince could be being tortured while Sam just stood by his bed with his mouth hanging open. Sam couldn't bear the thought of it. He had to help the prince, as well as the rulers of Erebor!

But Sam couldn't not notice that he knew nothing of the Prince. He didn't know the Prince's name, what he looked like, or what his personality was like. The only thing he knew about the prince was that it was a male hobbit. But it was too late to ask anyone about anything else, or else they might get suspicious. He just had to go on his instinct. If he found someone in the middle of nowhere, then he would take that person as a potential suspect. Then he would ask them a few questions, and if they sounded like a prince, then he would take the person back to Erebor and allow the King and Consort to decided if it was their son or not (if they weren't too busy yelling at him).

Yes, Sam would leave first thing in the morning. It was already too late to leave, for it was almost nightfall and the sun was quickly setting. His only option was to set out the second he woke up in the morning.

Tucking himself tightly under the covers of his bed, Sam smiled dreamily. Perhaps the prince would be kind and loving. If that was the case, then maybe the journey wouldn't be so hard after all. If he could spend all his time with a nice prince, then all his time would be worth it.

Maybe it would be like the stories.

* * *

Frodo rushed back into his room the second his father gave him his book back. He had eaten supper quickly, stuffing all the food he could into his mouth at once, and then chewed and swallowed. Sméagol had been just a bit worried about him, but laughed when Frodo held out his hand for the book back. "Not until you've washed the dishes." Sméagol had said tauntingly, causing Frodo to roll his eyes. Once the dishes were cleaned, he was finally able to take his book back upstairs and continue reading it.

Frodo had reached the part where the dwarves were on their way to kill Smaug when he heard a bell go off in his head. His book was about _Dwarves_ and a _hobbit_. His eyes widened when his brain finally made the connection. This book had everything he had in his dream; dwarves, a hobbit, and a mountain!

Frodo almost tripped over himself making his way to the wardrobe, pulling out all his childhood drawings. He hurriedly searched for the drawing of the hobbit and the dwarf as his heart beat rapidly in his chest. Once he found the picture, he didn't hesitate to search for the page in the book that gave the description of the hobbit.

The book said the hobbit had green eyes. In Frodo's drawing, the hobbit had green eyes. The book said the hobbit had honey-brown hair. In Frodo's drawing, the hobbit had honey-brown hair. It couldn't have been a coincidence. The hobbit was the same, it had to be! The clothes were the same as well! The hobbit in his dreams was the same as the hobbit in _A Hobbit's Tale_! He then compared the dwarf in his picture to the one the book and it was also the same. Both dwarves had blue eyes and long black hair and wore navy blue clothes with black and silver! Frodo was so amazed that he almost fainted.

He _almost_ fainted.

Frodo sucked in deep, melodic breaths for a few minutes to calm himself down. It took a while, but soon his breathing was back to normal and his mind was jeering less. His headache strayed, though, making Frodo recline back in his bed and rub roughly at his temples. His mind was still racing, though only slower than before. He couldn't believe what he had just seen.

The characters in the book were the characters Frodo saw in his dreams every night. The people he had seen for years were characters of a book. And the hobbit and the dwarf in the book fell in love! Did that mean that the hobbit and the dwarf in his dreams were in love as well? It was all so confusing, Frodo couldn't take it anymore. He had to sleep on it.

He pulled the covers over himself and nestled his face into the cool, soft pillow. Maybe he would wake up in the morning with a clear head and his headache would have disappeared overnight. Just maybe. It was all he could hope for at that point. But in the night, he would see the characters in his head once more and watch them play through his dreams. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to sleep after all. Frodo just wanted to have a normal night.

He decided to just pull out _A Hobbit's Tale_ again, and finish the book before he officially went to bed. Reading usually helped him to sleep, and he was dying to know how the story ended. The dwarves had been enraged when the hobbit was killed, and though Frodo was sad about it, he knew the dwarves would avenge him.

As he flipped open the book to the last page he was on, however, Sméagol barged into the room. "Frodo!" he exclaimed in surprise at the sight of Frodo with his book. "What are you doing still up? You're usually asleep by now." He reasoned, coming to sit himself on the edge of the bed.

Frodo sighed and closed his book again. "I know, father." He agreed. "I've just… had a bit on my mind lately." He hesitated, wondering if it would be worth it to tell Sméagol about everything he'd discovered in the past few hours.

Sméagol eyed Frodo worriedly for a few moments before sighing heavily. "Well, just make sure to get some sleep tonight, Precious." He leaned over and hugged him. "I don't want you to sleep through the day tomorrow, you know."

"I know." Frodo repeated.

"Good." With that, Sméagol made his way back to the door and left through it, leaving it just a smidge open, just like he usually did.

With a roll of his eyes, Frodo went to quietly close the door on his own, and then returned to his bed. He knew that his father was always wanting to know what he was doing, and he always kept Frodo's door open for some reason. Frodo hated leaving the door open, though, so he was always the one to close it. He liked knowing that any sounds he made would only be heard by him and anything that could hear through the window.

Reading the last few chapters of _A Hobbit's Tale_ before bedtime wasn't the best idea after all. Frodo's head was reeling all over again, from finding out that Smaug was a Dragon and finding out that the hobbit wasn't dead, and reading the proposal between the Dwarf King and the hobbit. All the things had been thrust upon him at once and it was too much for him. He couldn't fall asleep anymore.

Frodo released his breath raggedly. It seemed he would not get any sleep that night after all.

* * *

_It was dark, and the only light to be seen was far off in the distance. It was only a small speck of it, so small that it was almost invisible. Nothing but that little bit could be seen. It looked like a rose in a thunderstorm; so comforting and cheerful. It brought hope into the vast emptiness that was the abyss that surrounded the world. _

_Slowly, the light grew larger, and the hope was rising. There was a cool breeze beginning to be felt and the air was getting fresher. The heat of the light was getting stronger and the darkness was starting to feel like nothing compared to the lovely sun-bright light at the end of the tunnel._

_But, just as the light was about to overcome the dark, the light faded quickly. An attempt to chase after it was futile. The darkness was overpowering once again, and there was suddenly no light to be found. In the darkness, a growling noise sounded, echoing through the place. _

_Suddenly, there were eyes. They were staring hard and unblinking. There was a light in them as well, though it was not a comforting light. The light emanating from the eyes were cold and glaring. They were uncomfortable and caused stomach pains. The eyes began creeping closer and closer, and there was no way to escape their wrath._

Bilbo woke with a gasp, sitting up stock straight in his bed. His breathing was heavy and ragged and his heart was beating a mile a minute. There were beads of sweat forming on his brow, being hot from the thick covers on the bed. He rested his head in his hands and sighed heavily.

The nightmares hadn't been a problem for so long, Bilbo hadn't expected them to haunt him anymore. But that one had been just like the others he used to have. The darkness, the fading lights, and the glowing eyes; it was all there. The thought of those hard, shining eyes always caused Bilbo to convulse in shivers. They were absolutely terrifying.

"Bilbo?" Bilbo jumped, still touchy from the nightmare, and sighed when he turned to see Thorin sitting up in bed. "What's wrong? Has something happened?" his voice was rough with sleep and he rubbed his bleary blue eyes so as to see Bilbo better in the dark.

A sigh escaped Bilbo's lips as he gently pushed Thorin to rest back in bed. "I'm fine." He breathed out, laying his head on Thorin's chest.

"Are you sure?" Thorin asked. Bilbo felt a hand rest on his forehead. "You feel warm. And you're sweating. You're not getting sick, are you?"

"No." Bilbo replied sleepily. "I just… had one of those dreams again. But I'm awake now and it's alright. I'm fine. And tired. So just go back to sleep, okay?" he leaned up and kissed Thorin's cheek.

Thorin nodded sleepily, too tired to ask anything about the nightmare. If Bilbo was still acting strange in the morning, he could ask about it then. Bilbo watched as his husband pulled him closer and closed his eyes, falling back asleep instantly. Bilbo could feel the even rise and fall of his chest and hear the slow beating heart. He released another sigh and closed his own eyes, willing himself to forget the dream and fall asleep.

But sleep never came that easily to Bilbo anymore.

* * *

Sam woke up with a cramp in his side and crick in his neck. The bed that he had thought so comfortable when first arriving in Dale, was no longer as comfy as it had been. He probably would have thought a bed of nails to be comfortable after his journey, though. Anything would have done. But that bed wasn't doing the job anymore.

A jaw-cracking yawn escaped Sam as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched. Once he felt physically reinvigorated, he crossed the room over to the window and opened it, breathing in the fresh air. He repeated to himself over and over again that this morning was the morning that would change the rest of his mornings for a lifetime. That morning, he was leaving on his first _real_ adventure.

"Where are you off to today? Going to find that job of yours?" Sam looked back at Mr. Underhill in surprise. He was just about to cross out of the inn and out into the streets, without even noticing him. The man was sitting at his usual place with his feet reclined on the counter, but this time he had no book. His eyes were droopy though, so Sam assumed he had fallen asleep.

"Begging your pardon Mr. Underhill, but I already got me a job." Sam answered, just a bit proudly. "But, if I want to do it successfully, I've got to go now, if it's not too much trouble." He clarified.

Mr. Underhill laughed loudly. "You're a polite one then, aren't you?" he smiled, clapping Sam on the shoulder so hard, it made the poor hobbit wince. "It's no trouble to me if you leave now." He finally answered as his laughter died down. "Just tell me when you'll be back."

Sam hesitated. "That's the thing, sir." He began slowly. "I don't know when I'll be back. I might be gone for a long time, and if it's alright with you, I'd like to check out now." He finished.

Mr. Underhill stopped smiling and instead cocked his head at Sam. His eyebrows were raised quizzically, but Sam offered no more clarification. Mr. Underhill didn't ask for any. "Alright then, lad." He said after a moment. "How will you be paying?"

"Erm…" Sam glanced down at his feet for a moment. "I actually don't have my money yet." He said. "But once I finish this job and get my money for it, I'll come here and pay you back! I promise!"

Mr. Underhill heaved a sigh. "Mister Gamgee, how am I supposed to know I can take your word for that promise?" he asked, leaning over the counter and looking skeptical.

Sam's face hardened and his back straightened visibly. "I always keep my promises, sir." He stated with confidence. He knew it was just his instinct to tense up when he was tested. But what he had said was true. Sam never lied. He would always keep whatever promises he made and no one could get in his way.

Mr. Underhill gave him an intense once-over, studying him like a book. Finally, he came to a decision with a large smile. "Good. I will allow you to pay later, then." He assured, closing his record book and sitting back in his chair once more. "Now, off you go Mister Gamgee. You've got money to earn!" He exclaimed with a laugh.

Sam bowed with a large smile and, with a word of thanks, he pushed himself through the door and stepped into the open world. The streets were not as crowded as they usually were, seeing as it was so early in the morning. Sam sighed contentedly at the sound of singing birds and gentle wind that reached his ears. The nice and calm morning was definitely a good omen. His day would not be as hard as he thought, according to nature.

A large smile stretched across Sam's face. "Don't worry, your majesties." He spoke aloud, facing Erebor as if it were King Thorin and Bilbo themselves. "I'll find your son for you. I promise! And I _always_ keep my promises." And with those as his last words that morning, Sam began strolling down the street with his head held high and aimed to begin his search in the forest nearby.

He didn't care how long the journey took. He would keep his promise. And that was the truth.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I LOVE THESE CHARACTERS SO MUCH I WANT THEM TO BE REAL! DX

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Leave a review if you would like! I highly appreciate them! :D

P.S. I have a Tumblr that I use all the time! My username is siriuslychillin if you want to follow me, because I'll follow you back! :D


	5. The Meeting of a Lifetime

**Author's Note:** Sam and Frodo meet pretty quickly, but I don't care! I was so excited to write this part, so I did! XD

Please enjoy! This chapter's a bit longer than most!

* * *

Sam plopped down on a large rock with a sigh. He panted heavily and rubbed at his head to rid himself of the headache. His legs were aching and his lungs were burning. He had been walking for what seemed like days. It was already nightfall and Sam had gotten nowhere in his search. The whole of his day was filled with walking, eating, and occasionally tripping over some tree roots or rocks. His usually large extent of patience was wearing thin. He had gotten nowhere.

A groan of aggravation escaped him as he lay back fully on the rock. He desperately needed the rest. His legs had only taken short breaks when he stopped to eat, but even then, he ate quickly and continued on once his stomach was full again. He knew he should be giving himself more rest time, but that didn't mean he would. He was fully determined to keep his promises, and he wanted to get everything right as soon as possible. Which meant no resting.

With a grunt, Sam forced his way back onto his legs and a shot of pain went through his back. Perhaps he had lain on the rock for a little too long. It was a rather uncomfortable position he had been laying in, so he figured if he kept walking, then his back would return to normal soon enough. So, willing his legs to listen to his commands, he continued forward.

Sam noticed on his travels how beautiful the forest was. He never really liked forests, because they were cramped and dark and damp, but when he was traveling from The Shire to Dale, he had had to wander for days through forests, and he realized they weren't so bad. Sure, he felt a bit enclosed all the time, but it was still very calming and relaxing. There weren't really any things he needed to worry about, as far as he knew, and he could walk for hours without problems.

Except for that one time when he ran into spiders. That wasn't easy to deal with.

But, other than that, Sam had taken the time to appreciate the nature of the outside world, and had even grown to love it; the sights, the smells, the sounds – everything was just amazing. Sam didn't know how he'd never realized it before. But there was still something missing.

He was a bit upset that he was alone in his journey again. He wanted company. Sure, it was satisfying enough seeing the world by himself, but there was a part of him that was sad that he didn't have anyone to talk to. He wanted to share his view with someone; someone who would listen and understand everything he was saying.

Maybe once he found the prince, he would be able to. But then again, he knew nothing about the prince. What if he was vain and arrogant like most of the royalty Sam had heard of? Though, the prince was the son of King Thorin and Bilbo, so maybe he wouldn't be so bad. As far as Sam knew, King Thorin and Bilbo were very humble, albeit a bit scary. But that didn't mean they were bad people. In fact, to Sam, they had seemed quite sad.

And then, Sam remembered the story Mr. Underhill had told him, and how people said Consort Bilbo had gone insane. But, in Sam's opinion, Bilbo wasn't insane at all. He was just a dad who was missing his son, as was Thorin. Sam couldn't bring himself to believe they were anything beyond depressed. Surely neither of them were insane. People just spread rumors and stretched the truth to make the story more interesting, Sam proposed. He never did like that about certain people. They always told lies. And that wasn't right at all.

But, with that thought in his head, he was driven further forward once more. He continued on with his head held high and a mantra in his head; keep your promise. Soon, Sam wouldn't be alone. He knew he had to find the prince soon. Giving all the effort that he was, then he couldn't not find him.

Right?

* * *

Frodo sighed as he put down his book for the fourth time that day. He had planned to reread one of his favorites, but he just couldn't bring himself to turn the pages. As he would skim the words, he would completely forget everything he read by the time he had to turn the page anyway. He supposed he simply had too much on his mind to comprehend anything in the book that day.

Lifting himself from his bed, Frodo heard the sound of footsteps coming up to his room. He decided he would make himself look productive for his father, and he picked up his book once again, except this time, he hid it under the bed. With the little time he had, he rushed across the room and pulled his window's curtains closed. Then, he took out one of his dwarven culture books and writing materials.

Just as he made it seem he had been working, Sméagol appeared in the doorway looking weary and tired. But the look on his face morphed into confusion when he saw Frodo on his bed. "What are you doing, Frodo?" he asked, coming up to look over his shoulder.

Frodo shut the book before his father could see that there was nothing on his paper. "Nothing. Just trying to translate some of this dwarven language that was in this book." Frodo lied with a slightly nervous laugh.

Sméagol eyed Frodo wearily before dropping down next to him with a sigh. "Oh Frodo." He began, resting his face in his hands. "I've had a long day. For some reason, I just feel so tired." He rested a hand on Frodo's own. "But you always make me feel younger, you know?" he said with a smile, making Frodo laugh for real. "I'm being serious." Sméagol argued. "You're so full of life at this age and it would be hard for me to still feel old with you around." He reasoned teasingly.

Frodo laughed again. "You certainly don't look old, Father." He pointed out, pulling at Sméagol's cheeks as if he was checking for wrinkles. "You look like you're in your fifties, in fact." He said.

Sméagol's face suddenly grew hard and he grabbed Frodo's wrist gently. "I'm much older than that, Precious." He said gravely. "I've lived so long, I feel as if I've forgotten how many years I've had." He released Frodo's wrist slowly, seeing the look on his face.

Frodo swallowed hard and reached out to hug his father. "Well, for now," he said. "Let's just say you're fifty-five. Alright?" he asked softly.

Sméagol laughed and enveloped Frodo in his own hug. "Alright." He agreed happily.

Frodo smiled and tucked more into his father, enjoying the peaceful moment between them. He always did like it when they acted like father and son, instead of just roommates. It seemed like his father sometimes didn't remember that he lived there. He would always act aloof and never really acknowledge Frodo until he was leaving the tower or feeling tired. But Frodo supposed that it was because his father had always been a bit distant with everyone. At least, that's what Sméagol had told him.

"Father?" Frodo spoke up. "I've been wondering for a while now." He looked up at his father through his bangs. "I know that you won't let me now, but… will I… _ever_ be allowed to go outside?" he spoke quietly, almost to the point where Sméagol had to strain to hear it.

But Sméagol did hear it, and he sighed heavily. "Frodo, I will never let you leave." He said sternly. "You'll get hurt out there and I'll never forgive myself. If you were to go out into the world, you'd see for yourself." He explained poorly.

Frodo huffed and let go of his father, suddenly standing with his hands on his hips. "I won't get hurt!" he argued, pouting like a child. "Nothing out there can hurt me, I'm sure! I just want to see what's out there, you know that!"

"I do, but that doesn't mean I have to listen to you!" Sméagol stood as well, arms folded over his chest and narrowing his eyes down at Frodo. "I do what I do to protect you, Frodo. How many times must I say it for you to understand?"

Frodo lost it. All his past worry flew out his head, and was replaced with confusion and sadness. "I'll _never_ understand!" he shouted back, making Sméagol step back in shock. "I don't care how many times you try to explain it to me! I will _never_ understand why you think I wouldn't be able to handle myself out there! When will _you_ understand that nothing will hurt me! I won't let myself be attacked, or maimed or anything! Why do you worry?" Frodo demanded, his arms waving around.

"THAT IS ENOUGH!"

Frodo froze as the birds outside chirped and flew from the treetops, frightened by the noise. His eyes grew wide and his breathing stopped. He had never heard his father yell before, especially that loud. Frodo had never done anything so wrong as to provoke him into doing it. But this time, Frodo could see that he had gone too far. He had definitely made his father angry. Very angry, by the looks of it.

The room was silent for a long time as Frodo stared at his father, confused and worried, anger erased from his mind. Sméagol continued to glare at the curtains, and Frodo half expected them to wither and crumble into nothing. "Frodo." He finally spoke with an eerily calm tone. "You will _never, ever_ leave this tower. And if you do…" he said nothing more, but the point was clear.

Frodo stood there, his eyes growing watery as he blinked back his tears. He was fighting his hardest not to cry, to show his father he was stronger than that, but it was difficult. The two of them had been having such a nice moment before, and now… now Frodo was prepared to burst into tears and beg for forgiveness from his father. "Father…" he choked out, suppressing his ragged breathing and sniffles.

"I'm going out again." Sméagol said. His voice was thankfully no longer harsh, but instead, it was monotonous and blank. "I don't know how long I will be out. You. Stay. Put." He growled the last bit, and immediately swept out of the room without another word.

The moment the door closed, Frodo released his hold and cried. He cried for the first time in years. Never had he had a reason to cry, other than when something terrible happened in his books. Even then, they rarely ever made him shed real tears. No, these were real tears. For the first time in his life, Frodo had been yelled at, and it was a horrible feeling. He had seen people get yelled at in his books as well, but he never understood why the characters took it so hard until now.

The feeling of dread washed over him. He felt terrible for having shouted at his own father; the one who raised him, and took care of him, and bought him things. He knew his father was extremely disappointed in him. He could tell. The thought of it, though, was overwhelming for poor Frodo. He didn't know how to handle it. What did the people in his books do?

Of course. They apologized. But when Frodo had the chance to do the same, he backed out, standing there with his mouth hanging open and eyes the size of plates. It was too late to apologize. He had to wait, now. He had to wait for his father to get over the whole thing, come back, and give Frodo a hug. Just like he always did.

Frodo opened the curtains blocking the window, and continued to let his tears fall as he rested his head on the sill. The only thing that could remotely cheer him up, would be to feel the cool, fresh air on his face and breathe it steadily in. One breath, and Frodo already started to feel a bit better. But he continued to cry.

He cried and cried and cried. He cried for hours on end, not moving from his spot at the window. His mind was solely set on getting the tears out of his system and gone forever. The only thing that made him stop was a sudden voice from below; from the ground.

"Hello?"

* * *

Sam was beginning to feel that the forest was not the best place to start looking. He hadn't seen anything interesting or even suspicious in the forest and he had been there for… well, Sam didn't even know! He just wandered aimlessly hoping to find something that would aide him in his search. Sam realized that maybe that was the reason he wasn't finding anything. He had no plan whatsoever.

Nighttime had fallen once more over the trees, and Sam found it far too dark to see anything. He could barely see where he was going. It was so dark, he tripped over even more things than he did in the daytime. It was about an hour into the night when Sam decided he couldn't go on for the day. He had to stop for a rest. His legs certainly appreciated that. As did his lungs.

He spread his blanket on the ground and laid upon it, staring through the treetops at the stars above him. They were truly spectacular. Like diamonds twinkling brightly in a dark cave. They shined in the sky, barely making it feel like nighttime. Sam always liked looking for the constellations. His father had taught him many of them when he was young. He could easily spot any star formation before him, if he wished. But at the moment, he was much too tired. His brain was muddled from all the traveling, and he desperately wanted to rest.

But it was about halfway through the night that he woke up to a noise. It was a rustling sound, and Sam didn't trust it one bit. Blearily, he rubbed at his eyes and stood from his makeshift bedding and called out into the shrubbery. "Hello?" he demanded, bravely but slightly timid. "Who's there? You might as well show yourself! I know you're there!" he lifted the frying pan from his pack and readied it for attack. "I'm not afraid to use this!"

"Do not fret yourself, Halfling." A voice spoke from the trees. "We do not mean you any harm. We come in peace."

Sam watched in awe as two elves appeared before him from behind the trees. They both had long, silvery blonde hair and were very tall, though one was shorter than the other. The taller one also had a crown of sorts on his head, but it looked more like antlers than that. The elf's robes were very shimmery and bright, but the shorter one didn't where robes. He wore a long tunic with a belt tied around his waist and tights covering his legs. They made him look almost like a twig.

"Put the pan down, Halfling." The elf with the crown commanded calmly. "There is no need for it. We are friends."

Sam slowly lowered the pan back to his side and returned to a normal standing position. The elves seemed friendly, but as graceful and honorable these creatures looked, Sam never trusted on immediate contact. He especially didn't trust anyone that was wandering through the forest at night. He expected to be the only one, but others out at night was just strange.

"Good." The crowned elf spoke once again. "Now, I and my son are out looking for someone. We would appreciate your assistance, if you would be so kind." The second glanced wearily at the tall one, but quickly glanced back down at Sam.

Sam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Who would I be helping, then?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

The crowned elf laughed and shook his head from side to side. "Forgive my manners. I am Thranduil, and this is my son, Legolas." Legolas bowed forward slightly in introduction. "We are the royalty of the Mirkwood forest, and it would be wise to behave well in our presence, especially while you are near our kingdom's borders."

Sam's eyes widened, but his opinion of the two elves did not change. Just because they were royalty, didn't mean they were trustworthy. He briefly remembered Smaug the Terrible, the most evil of all the kings. His father had been enslaved by the dragon-shifter, and told him stories of those days. Smaug was a terrible ruler and was greedy beyond belief. The hoarded piles of gold in his castle were large enough to feed the entirety of Middle Earth. Who knew whether these elves were better than that or not?

"I apologize, Your Majesty." Sam said as politely as possible, and found himself thinking that he had recently run into a lot of royalty since venturing East of the Shire. "But I'm still confused as to what you want with me. And in the middle of the night as well." He reasoned.

Thranduil nodded. "I accept your apology, and also understand your confusion. Allow me to explain." The Elf King cleared his throat regally before continuing. "You see, long ago, the prince of Erebor was taken from his home by an unknown specimen. So far, every kingdom in Middle Earth has put a search party out and quit, all except for Mirkwood. I figured that it was our turn to try and locate the lost Prince. Any information you have may be useful to our search."

Legolas pulled his father back for a quick moment and whispered something in his ear. Luckily, Legolas wasn't that quiet of a whisperer. "Father, are you sure that this hobbit is not the one we seek?" he asked, making Sam's eyes narrow further.

"Yes, I am sure. He looks nothing like them. Where would he have gotten blonde hair and brown eyes?" Thranduil responded, once again, just loud enough for Sam to hear. "No, this is not the prince. This is another hobbit." Thranduil broke free of his son's grasp easily and straightened his back once again. "So, hobbit, do you have any information for us?"

Sam glared slightly at the King before him. He knew it would be a bad idea to tell the elves that he was going on his own hunt for the prince, so he definitely had to lie. He didn't like lying, but in this case, he knew it was his only option. Otherwise, he didn't know of anything the elves would do to him. "I have nothing for you whatsoever." Sam spoke defiantly. "I'm just out here camping. I have nothing to tell you."

Thranduil's own eyes narrowed and he gave Sam the most analytical once over Sam had ever seen (besides the one Bilbo had given him). "You're positive that you have nothing for us, hobbit?" he asked one last time.

Sam nodded his head.

"Then, Legolas, if you would follow me. We should be moving on." With one last glare, Thranduil walked back into the trees and disappeared.

Legolas strayed behind, watching his father walk away. Once he knew his father was out of earshot, he looked back to Sam. "Thank you for not saying anything." He said, causing Sam's eyebrows to shoot up to his hairline. "Yes, I know you lied, but I also do not know the truth. My father plans to find the prince for his own gain, and I resent helping him. But thank you for not giving anything away."

Sam stood for a moment. He was shocked that the Elf Prince was thanking him for lying, but it was still happening before his eyes. "You're… welcome?" Sam replied, heavily confused as to what was going on at this point.

Legolas smiled and followed after his father, leaving Sam alone once more.

Swallowing roughly, Sam sat back down on his blanket and stared at the ground. What did Legolas mean when he said Thranduil was finding the prince for his own gain? What was Thranduil going to do if he found the prince? Was he going to hurt him? Sam's eyes narrowed at the thought. No one but himself was going to find the Prince. Sam wouldn't hurt him. He would be as nice and polite as possible. The Prince would have no worries with him, and he would be brought home safely and quickly.

Even with the troubling thoughts in his head, Sam found himself able to fall asleep once again under the stars. It was a lovely evening and the sky was just so mesmerizing. It was almost like it was lulling him into sleep by its beauty.

Sam's dreams were of the stars as well. But amidst the vast array of endless twinkles, there was a faded face. One Sam could not make out. It was smiling brightly, that much he could see. But he couldn't tell who was staring back at him. But the constellation was lovely either way.

* * *

The next morning, Sam sat up and stretched largely. His mouth opened wide as he yawned and breathed in the fresh, morning air. It made him smile happily, and he was already feeling that that day was going to be a good day. Nothing would stand in his way this morning.

He packed his things quickly and left his campsite, making sure to check that he didn't forget anything. With one last huff, he hoisted his pack further up on his shoulder and continued on his way through the dense forest.

As he traveled, Sam noticed that the trees were growing less cluttered together. Sam thought that maybe he was finally reaching the end of the forest. The idea made him a little sad, but at the same time happy, because he longed for nothing more than to see bright daylight once again. He missed feeling the sun on his face, heating up his cheeks and nose. He had always loved that feeling. He would relish it when he worked in the garden at home. It was one of his favorite things about gardening; being under the shining sun.

He walked for about half the day, and he was beginning to feel tired again. Then, he heard birds. They sounded startled by something. Sam looked up at them curiously, using his hand to shield the sun from his eyes. The birds' wings flapped wildly as if there was some sort of monster chasing them. "What are you running from?" Sam spoke to himself as he imagined what could possibly frighten the birds so much. He was instantly curious, and followed the path the birds were going the opposite direction of.

It was a very cluttered path, but Sam could faintly see light at the end of it. Smiling, Sam pushed himself through the bushes with much effort, and when he stopped to untangle his rope that had gotten stuck on a thorn bush, he heard a sound.

It was a voice. A _crying_ voice.

Sam looked out of the forest into the light. He knew that was where the voice was coming from. Hurriedly, he yanked at the rope a few more times and wondered who else could possibly be in a forest with him and two elves? And why on Earth was the person crying? What was there to cry about when surrounded by so much beauty? Especially if the person lived out there.

Once Sam finally freed the rope from the bush, he picked it up and moved carefully onward, making sure to stay quiet, in case the crying person would be startled. His breathing quickened and he could hear his heartbeat clearly and loudly in his ears. He was slightly frightened at what he might see beyond the forest borders. What if it was some sort of monster that had kidnapped a poor, innocent person? Clutching his frying pan tightly in his fist, Sam shoved himself out of the forest with a mighty cry. Unfortunately, there was a root on the ground, and Sam tripped.

Groaning, Sam lifted himself off the ground and stared before him. Immediately, his jaw dropped to the floor. There was a tower. A tower guarded by… _lava_, flowing, boiling _lava_. Sam's eyes traveled further up to see the cracked and crumpled tower with spikes poking out at certain places. The monument made Sam swallow loudly, gulping back his fear. The tower was so large and intimidating, he didn't want to go anywhere near it. Who could have possibly lived there?

Then, he remembered, someone had been crying. He spotted a window at the top of the tower and his eyes widened. There was someone there, and they were definitely the one crying. Sam couldn't see their face though. All he saw was dark brown hair and two creamy white arms supporting the head as it cried. Sam swallowed once again and cleared his throat. He was actually nervous.

"Hello?" he asked loudly, so the person could hear him from so far up.

The person suddenly yanked their head up and Sam could only catch a glimpse of their face before he heard a shriek, and the person frantically hid behind a curtain. Sam panicked. "I'm sorry!" he called once again, placing his pack on the ground beside him, sensing that he would be at that tower for a while. "I didn't mean to frighten you! I just wanted to ask what was wrong!"

Sam watched as the person slowly peeked their head out from behind the curtain, but Sam still couldn't see their face. "I promise I won't hurt you!" Sam shouted, stepping forward more. "Please! I just wanted to help! I hate seeing people cry!" He added, hoping that it would convince the person to come out.

Apparently, it worked. The person slowly emerged from their hiding spot and leaned slightly over the window ledge, revealing his face to Sam.

And Sam felt he would never breath right again.

The person, a boy it would seem, was beautiful, even from so far away. He could see now that the boy was leaning more into the sunlight, and Sam spotted that the dark brown hair was extremely curly and pretty. He was very pale as well, causing Sam to think of the boy as a glass doll for just a moment. But what was agonizing was that he could barely see the boy's eyes. He was still too far away for that.

"W-Who are you?" The boy called timidly, sounding like an angel from the heavens to Sam's ears. "What are you doing here?"

Sam paused for a moment, caught up in the angel before him. He shook his head clear of the thoughts, however, and felt he needed to say something soon, or the boy might get suspicious. He cleared his throat loudly, making himself look and feel somewhat older, and began speaking in a slightly deeper voice than before. "My name is Samwise Gamgee, and I heard your tears from the forest and thought I would come and help." Sam smiled inwardly. Maybe that would sound somewhat impressive to the stranger.

Instead, the boy snorted. He covered his mouth with his hand for a moment, before Sam assumed he couldn't hold it over anymore, and the boy burst into laughter and giggles. Sam stood awkwardly at the bottom of the tower, still a safe distance away from the lava moat, shuffling his feet and staring at the ground. When he heard the boy's laughter dying, he looked back up and said as politely as possible, "Begging your pardon, but… what was so funny?"

The boy finally got his laughter under control and looked back down to Sam. "I'm sorry, it's just…" he broke into another fit of laughter. "It's just… your voice… it was deeper than before! Is your voice supposed to do that?" he asked, suddenly cheerfully curious.

Sam was at a loss for words. He didn't know how he was going to do to get out of that one. "Umm… well no… it's not really…" he trailed off, embarrassed.

The boy's face suddenly grew serious. "Oh, I'm sorry! Should I not have brought that up?" His voice lowered to a loud whisper. "Is it serious?"

Sam's eyebrows contorted. "What? No, it's nothing like that!" he was quick to recover, and saw the boy visibly relax. "It's just… well, nothing you need to worry yourself over." Sam cleared up.

The boy smiled once again. "That's good! So you're not sick?"

"Nope! Last I checked, I was in very good health." Sam assured.

The mysterious boy visibly sighed and sagged in relief. "Wonderful! It's good to know that the first stranger I meet isn't ill!"

Sam's eyes widened. "Have you never met anyone else before?" he asked, appalled at the thought of such anti-socialization. He couldn't imagine being alone forever, never meeting another person.

The boy shook his head, but still kept the large smile plastered on his face. "Never!" he exclaimed, almost excitedly. "I've never talked to anyone but my father! But he's not even my real father…" with the last sentence, his voice grew quiet, and Sam didn't hear him.

"What was that?" Sam called out, curious as to what the boy said.

The boy jerked his head up once again, and replaced the frown with another smile. "It was nothing!" he called back down. "OH! WAIT! I want to ask you something! But you need to come inside first!" Sam swore the boy sounded like he was still a young child.

However, Sam was excited about the prospect of going inside the tower and getting a better look at the boy. He was probably so much more beautiful up close. But there was one thing in his way of that. "Um…" he spoke. "What about the lava?" his voice choked up a bit.

"Lava?" The boy peeked his head all the way over the ledge and looked down to see the lava moat. "Oh, _that_ lava! Hold on one second! I'll be right down! Don't leave! Please!" and the boy rushed away and out of Sam's view.

Sam, however, continued to stare at the window. He was slightly overwhelmed at how… _energetic_ the boy was. If Sam guessed (which he didn't, because that would be rude), he would've said the boy was under his tweens; about twelve years old would have sufficed. But Sam didn't want to be dishonorable, especially to one so lovely, so he refrained from making any assumptions. He knew he didn't have to say anything out loud, but he would still feel bad either way.

Suddenly, Sam popped out of his thoughts when the door to the tower opened and a large plank appeared and connected the tower to the rest of the land, across the lava. The boy appeared in the doorway as well brushing invisible debris off his hands. "There you are!" He exclaimed, no longer needing to yell. "Go ahead and cross!"

Sam couldn't stop his jaw from falling to his feet again. Now that the boy was literally only a few feet away from him, he could see the boy much clearer than before. Slowly, entranced to the boy like he was a siren, Sam crossed over to the edge of the lava, standing right at the end of the plank. There, he could see even better, and was finally able to see the boy's clothes and eyes. He was wearing a blue shirt with black pants and suspenders keeping them up. But Sam barely noticed them. What he was drawn to was the eyes. The boy's eyes were the most beautiful cerulean blue he had ever seen. Staring into them, he could see the ocean waves and the bright pale sky painted above them mixed together in a plethora of different shades of blue. Sam knew he could get lost in those eyes, but he never wanted to leave their presence.

The boy coughed slightly and Sam shook his head roughly out of his trance. He focused on the boy's slightly freaked out expression, and knew he had gone a little far with the staring. He coughed himself and straightened his posture, trying to make himself look a bit taller. "Alright." He responded, preparing himself to take a step forward onto the narrow, flimsy bridge. But he stopped as he looked down.

It occurred to him that he was about to walk over _lava_; _real lava_ that could kill him if he fell in. He glanced back up at the boy across from him. The boy must have seen and gave Sam an encouraging smile. "Come on, I'm sure you'll be fine!" he reassured. "Do you want me to help you?"

Sam froze as he saw the boy reach out a small hand to him from across the lava. He stared at the hand and felt himself turn a bit red in the face. The skin looked so smooth and soft and if Sam hadn't known who it belonged to, he would've thought it was a girl's. "Well come on then!" the boy suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Sam's attention once more. "Are you going to take it or not?"

Sam bated his breath as he slowly reached forward and finally took the smaller, more feminine hand in his own, and he felt lightning bolts plummet down to Middle Earth and cause fireworks to dance across the sky. The skin was just as he had hoped; soft and smooth like a flower's petal. The boy giggled and Sam realized he was openly blushing and that made him blush even harder than before.

Carefully, the boy pulled Sam across the rickety plank and finally pulled him into the tower. "Great!" he exclaimed, hopping up and down and clapping in excitement. "Now, follow me!" The boy proceeded to bound up the stairs, skipping every other step and Sam watched him go. He trailed behind much slower, walking up the stairs like a normal person should, but refused to take his eyes away from the boy ahead of him. The silky, dark brown curls bounced around his head as he ran and Sam smiled fondly. He had never met anyone like this person before.

Finally, the boy had reached the top of the stairs and stayed there for a bit, looking back down at Sam. "Come on, hurry!" he whined like a child. "You walk too slow! You have to see it now! Before my Father gets back!" he finished in a hushed whisper and bounded off again into a room across from the stairs.

Sam decided that he would ask the boy his own questions when they reached wherever they were going, so he ran the rest of the way up the stairs and into the room the boy had disappeared into. By the time he had opened the door, he was slightly out of breath and panting, leaning against the doorway. The other, on the other hand, was frantically throwing papers about the room in a shuffled mess. Sam's eyes followed every inch of color he saw on the bits of paper, but didn't bother to pry on what the paper's showed.

"Here!" the boy finally shouted triumphantly, making Sam jump. Sam met the energetic hobbit halfway into the room and followed the boy's example, sitting on the floor. "Look at these!" the boy commanded, spreading papers in front of them, but Sam noticed that the boy was more careful about it than he would have expected. "Do any of these things look familiar to you?" the boy asked, staring at Sam with pleading, hopeful eyes.

However, Sam wasn't looking at the boy's eyes, for once. Instead, he stared down at the drawings before him in awe. They were a child's drawings, he could tell that much, but the shocking thing was that they _did_ look familiar to him. There was one drawing that seemed to be of Erebor, the very dwarven kingdom that he had visited. And another drawing was of two people that looked somewhat like King Thorin and the Consort Bilbo. But in the picture they were smiling, and Sam hadn't seen them smile once on his visit. But how could this boy know of who they were? He said he had never met anyone before.

Sam threw a sideways glance at the boy beside him and melted at the hope shining in the other's eyes. It was physically painful for him to look at. "Well…" he stuttered, not wanting to say the wrong thing to the boy. "I think they…_ might_ look a bit familiar…"

Sam found himself surprised once again as the boy beamed and leaped of the ground with a loud shout. "I _knew_ they had to be real!" he exclaimed laughing happily. "Oh this is a dream come true! It just gets better and better!" he seemed to be speaking to himself, but before Sam could comment, the boy continued to question him. "One other thing! Do the characters in this book sound familiar to you as well?"

Sam took the book that the boy seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. Suspicious, Sam flipped carefully through the book and suddenly caught a name that _did_ look familiar. "Bilbo Baggins…" Sam muttered to himself. He felt the boy lean in closer to him to hear better and he tried to ignore the blush rising in his cheeks once again. "That's the… consort to the King of Erebor…" he said.

The boy beside him smiled largely, once again, at that news. "Really? He _is_ real? And what about Thorin Oakenshield? Is he the real King Under the Mountain?" he questioned further, leaning even closer with excitement.

Sam shut the book loudly and turned his head away from the boy so as to hide the ever growing blush on his face. "Yes he is." He answered straightforwardly. "And this picture," he picked up one of the boy's pictures off the ground. "is of the mountain kingdom they live in; Erebor. And this one is of King Thorin and Bilbo." He added, pointing to the matching picture.

"So let me get this straight." The boy sat rigidly and closed his eyes tightly. "There's a dwarf kingdom out there somewhere called Erebor, and in that Kingdom, there are two rulers named Thorin and Bilbo?" he repeated.

Sam nodded when the boy opened one eye to see if he had gotten it correct. "I've been there before, in fact." Sam explained, and watched as the boy's eyes slowly opened to the size of plates and his mouth dropped open. "It's… not that far from here. Only a few days' walk." He clarified, suddenly nervous about the other's reaction.

The boy suddenly reached forward and placed both his hands on either side of Sam's face. Sam watched in horror as the other steadily leaned closer to him, until their noses were almost touching. "Will you…" the boy spoke quietly and nervously, surprising Sam immensely, for he had been so used to the energy the boy had had. "Will you… take me there?" he finished in a whisper, staring into Sam's deep brown eyes with his own piercing blue ones.

Sam had almost not heard the question, he was so distracted by the beauty being so close to him. But his brain suddenly halted to a harsh stop when he finally processed what was happening. He pulled away from the boy roughly, standing and backing away, and the boy followed his example, looking frightened. They had been so close together and suddenly they were standing on opposite sides of the room. "I'm sorry." The boy apologized, staring at the floor. "Was that too forward? I'm just not used to having people around."

Sam slouched in defeat at the boy's sadness. "No, it's not your fault." He reasoned. "I'm just a bit confused and would like to ask some questions, begging your pardon." He saw the boy nod frantically, and he sighed in relief. "First," Sam held up a finger. "Who are you, if you don't mind asking?" Sam questioned, managing to be polite still.

The boy suddenly smiled and bounced over to him, making Sam back away a bit further, but if the boy noticed this, he didn't respond in any way. "My name is Frodo!" he exclaimed happily.

Sam managed to still be amazed at the hobbit's sudden mood changes. "Frodo…?" Sam held out, indicating that Frodo hadn't given his last name.

Frodo's face suddenly fell, but he chirped back up with a fake sounding laugh and a fake looking smile. "Oh, I forgot that people usually have _two_ names, don't they?" he said, and Sam could sense his embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I don't really… know my other name. See, I was adopted when I was a baby and my father never told me my last name. So… I pretty much just go by Frodo."

Sam instantly felt bad for being so quick to reject Frodo from their closeness, but it had been so foreign and strange to him. But then, something the boy had said earlier made him think. "Frodo," Sam began carefully, continuing when Frodo's eyes were once again on him. "Have you… ever left this tower?"

Frodo turned down to the ground, away from Sam's eyes. "No." he said quietly. "But I've always wanted to." He looked back up with longing eyes staring at the window. "Every day, I look out my window and think what it would be like to just… escape from here."

Sam watched as Frodo crossed the room and placed his hands on the window ledge. He looked so sad and pitiful like a dog that hadn't been fed for weeks. Sam felt his heart break a little at the sight of the boy he had just met so sad. He knew it was strange, though, to become so acquainted with someone just after meeting them, but he knew right off the bat that there was nothing untrustworthy about Frodo. Maybe he was being brainwashed by Frodo's beauty, for Sam was always cautious of strangers, but he deemed that unlikely. Sure, Frodo was lovely, but Sam had met lovely people before, and he had still been cautious of them. He judged based off of attitude, not looks. And it was rare he saw a bad guy crying on a window ledge, and acting like an energetic tween.

"So you…" Sam began, stepping ever closer to Frodo. "You want me to… take you to Erebor?" he questioned carefully, not wanting to excite the other.

Frodo turned to him, for once, acting normally. He stared at Sam with the most natural wide eyes Sam had ever seen. "I do." He said, turning his body fully away from the window. "Would you do that? For me?" he pleaded.

Sam sighed and stared at the hobbit before him. He looked so pitiful and sad and it broke Sam's heart. This boy had never gone outside? Had he ever smelled the flowers or felt the current of a flowing river? Had he ever seen animals or creatures in ways other than pictures in books? Sam couldn't imagine a life like that. He had spent half of his own life outside and loved the feeling dearly. Frodo deserved to see it too.

But there was still the Prince he had to worry about. He couldn't postpone his quest just to take someone he just met on a field trip to Erebor! But then it hit him. Frodo had drawings of the Lonely Mountain and of King Thorin and Bilbo… perhaps Sam had found the Prince already.

But how had Frodo drawn them if he didn't know who they were? Everything was muddling together in Sam's brain, and he had to rub at his temples to make the pain stop. Frodo was so confusing. But Sam knew, somewhere in his heart, that Frodo was special. There was just something about him… and that was when Sam decided he would let King Thorin and Bilbo decide for themselves.

"I promise." Sam said finally, making Frodo smile widely. "You will see Erebor in a few days time! I promise you that!" he puffed his chest out slightly, making himself look more confident and taller.

Frodo let out an almost inhuman squeal and lunged forward, surprising Sam by hugging him tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" he cried through shining, watery eyes. "You don't know how much this means to me! I could kiss you!" Sam blushed heavily as Frodo suddenly let go and started darting around the room, gathering things in his arms. "Oh, I'm so excited, I can hardly stand it!" he dumped all the things on his bed (the things including a blanket, his drawings, the storybook he showed Sam, and multiple other supplies). "I can't wait to arrive! It's going to be just like all my dreams!" Frodo shoved all his things into a bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. "Are you ready to go?" he asked, turning to Sam once more.

Sam jumped, having not expected to be addressed again. "Um, yeah." He answered lamely, not really knowing what else to say.

Frodo bounced past him out the door. "Come on then! Hurry!" he shouted, already halfway down the stairs.

Sam laughed a bit, thinking Frodo's childish glee to be utterly adorable, and followed after the other hobbit. But when he reached the bottom of the stairs, Frodo was frozen at the doorway, staring out. "Frodo?" Sam asked, coming up behind him. "What's the matter?" he would have placed a hand on the other's shoulder, but Sam thought that would scare him.

"This is it." Frodo muttered. "This is really it. I'm going to do it. After all this time…" his voice was barely a whisper, something Sam thought he would never hear before. Suddenly, Frodo turned to Sam with wide, fearful eyes. "I don't know if I can do this after all, Sam."

With a sigh, Sam gently guided Frodo away from the door and went outside, gathering up all his courage to cross the plank bridge on his own. He then turned back to the doorway and held his hand out to Frodo. "I couldn't cross this bridge before." He began, feeling a bit like a fool, but it needed to be said. "But I can now, because you helped me cross it the first time, and showed me it wasn't that scary. I can do it all on my own now. And I'll help you too. If you take my hand, I'll help you with anything and everything you need. Including this."

Frodo stared at him for a moment longer with glowing eyes. He was visibly shaking and Sam could sense the boy's fear. Sam could definitely sympathize, and stretched a bit further, messaging that his help was still on offer.

For one heart-wrenching moment, Sam thought he would turn away; close the door and never open it again. But it turned out he was wrong. Frodo began slowly reaching forward as if Sam's hand was frightening to him.

But Sam beamed like the sun when Frodo took his hand in his own.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Sam and Frodo will get more acquainted in the next chapter, and we'll also see more of Thranduil and Legolas! Don't worry, they'll be back! Haha! :D

P.S. If you haven't started to follow me on Tumblr yet, you're always welcome! I love following new people! My user is siriuslychillin so feel free to follow and I'll follow you back (this is basically a way you can gain a new follower XD )


	6. The Trouble Deepens in Rivendell

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the wait on this chapter. I've been a bit busy lately. And distracted. Oops.

But hey, I'm here now, that's all that matters! :D

Hope you enjoy this chapter! I worked really hard for you guys!

* * *

Carefully, Sam led Frodo across the weak plank bridge, making sure not to let the other stumble. Frodo took his time as well, taking steps like the board itself was on fire. He seemed so afraid, but so excited at the same time, Sam was confused as to what he was actually feeling. He was excited earlier, but scared now and Sam had no idea what to think about it.

Finally, Frodo stepped down from the plank and placed both of his feet on the ground carefully. Sam heard a gasp escape his lips. "Woah…" Frodo said, staring down at the grass beneath him. "It's so…" he didn't finish before he began laughing hysterically and ran off away from the tower, falling down in a patch of tall grass near the forest edge. "This is amazing!" he shouted happily, hopping up quickly and continuing his business bouncing and running around in the grass laughing.

Sam watched with a smile as Frodo rolled around in the grass thinking of how he must have felt. It was his first time outside, and Sam couldn't even imagine what the other was feeling. He could obviously sense happiness, the much was for sure, but he thought that maybe there would be a hint of sadness along with it. I mean, Frodo had spent an entire section of his life indoors and he wasn't able to enjoy the outdoors until so much later in his life. Sam once again felt a sharp pang of sympathy strike him in the chest.

"I can't believe I'm lying in the grass; the _grass_, Sam!" Frodo continued to laugh, sprawling himself out in the grass field on his back. "I love this feeling! It's so… new and… _amazing_!"

Sam was growing worried, seeing as the sun was beginning to go down and Frodo said they had to leave before his father came back to the tower. There was no telling when it would be too late to leave. "Ah… Frodo…" Sam called, watching as Frodo finally pulled his gaze away from the sky. "Don't you think we should be leaving this place? You know, you said your father would be back soon."

Frodo leaped from the ground with a large gasp. "You're right! Father! He'll be furious, oh gods, what have I done!" Sam watched in confused awe as the little hobbit began pacing frantically, tugging at his dark curls in frustration. "I shouldn't have done this! This was bad idea after all! But… It's so amazing out here!" he seemed very conflicted, like he was arguing with another side of himself.

Sam approached Frodo carefully as the other managed to fall to his knees in the grass and hide his face in his hands. "Uh, Frodo? Maybe you can just stay here? Pretend no one of this happened if it'll make you feel better?" he suggested with a shrug. Though, he would admit to feeling a bit disappointed when he thought of Frodo not coming with him.

"Stay here?" Frodo repeated, appalled. "No way! I love it out here! Of course I'm coming with you! It's just… my father…" Frodo glanced back at the tower behind him with sad eyes. "He says he keeps me in there to protect me, and… if he finds out I left then… I don't know what he'll do. He'll be so upset with me and… I don't think I could bear that."

Sam came up behind Frodo and placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder in comfort. "I know. But it's your decision. If you want to follow your dreams, then go for it. But if you care about your father's opinion more, then stay here. It's going to be a hard choice, but you have to make one. And quickly." He added glancing up at the darkening sky.

Frodo strayed for a moment, glancing in between the menacing tower and Sam's kind, reassuring smile. The smile made him feel… safer, somewhat. It made him feel happy instead of afraid or paranoid. The tower only brought him bad memories of lying in bed all day, reading and doing nothing productive with his time. "Alright, let's go." Frodo made up his mind, after moments of thought. Sam's smile grew bigger.

"Let's go then! We want to start moving as soon as possible, or else it'll take forever to get there." Sam turned around began to march in the direction from whence he came, but a hand suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm.

"Sam, wait, we can't go that way!" Sam turned again to curiously face a horrified Frodo. "My father went down that path earlier today and if he is truly on his way back, then he might see us! Sam, he can't see us, he _absolutely cannot!_ He would be furious with me… and you." He added fearfully. "I don't want him to get angry at you because of me. I wouldn't be right."

Sam sighed heavily. "That's the only way back, Frodo. It's the way I came from and I came straight from Dale which is right in front of Erebor. If we want to go, we have to go this way." Sam explained carefully, regretting it as Frodo looked more and more stressed with each word.

"No it isn't! It can't be!" Frodo argued frantically looking around him. "There's always another way! We could just go that way and go around the path you took!" Frodo pointed to a cluster of bushes behind the tower, looking at Sam with hopeful eyes.

"But if we went that way, then we wouldn't arrive at Erebor as quickly as we could going the other way." Sam reasoned, knowing Frodo wanted to get to Erebor as soon as he could.

Sam felt Frodo clutch tightly at his arm. "I know but… I don't want to risk him seeing us! Please Sam, believe me! Please!" he pleaded.

How could Sam resist him?

After Sam relented to taking a back route, Frodo surprisingly hugged him very tightly and then ran off onto the path, leaving Sam to trail behind. He would stop and pick flowers every now and then, smelling them and then observing their color. "Look at this one Sam!" he said, shoving a beautiful violet flower with white tips on the petals under Sam's nose. "Isn't it beautiful!" he exclaimed, hugging the flower back to himself.

Sam smiled as he saw Frodo's fascination with the flowers and plants. Frodo was so beautiful when he was out in the moonlight, Sam thought. He couldn't imagine Frodo never being out there. It was almost as if Frodo… _belonged_ out there.

* * *

"Sam, I'm getting tired." Frodo yawned largely, making Sam yawn as well. "How much longer do we have to walk?" he asked, slurring his words sleepily.

Sam shrugged. "We don't have to keep walking if you don't want to. We can sleep right here if you want."

Frodo plopped to the ground with a groan, his dark curls bouncing around his head. "Thank Mahal." He said, pulling out his bedroll and blanket from his bag. "How long have we been travelling, anyway?"

Sam glanced at the sky, seeing that it was significantly darker than before. "Maybe about three or four hours." He estimated, spreading his own bedroll out on the ground. "We'll rest and then set out again in the morning."

There was a long silence. Sam assumed that Frodo had fallen asleep already and decided to try and sleep himself. But a whimper from beside him made him decide against that. "Frodo?" he asked, turning to look at the little bundle of blankets huddled across from him. "Is something wrong?"

"There aren't any… _dangerous_ things out here… are there, Sam?" Frodo questioned softly, and Sam could hear the fear in his voice.

"Nothing that will harm us if we're just lying here." Sam replied truthfully. He had seen creatures in the forest before, but none of them had attacked him on sight. Sam would quietly walk past the monsters and they would stare at him, but pay him no special attention. Sam learned that nothing would hurt him if he didn't think of the creatures as a threat first. "They'll only attack if we attack first. Since we're just lying here, I don't think we're in any danger."

Frodo nodded beside him, but Sam could tell that his advice hadn't helped much. "Just get some sleep." Sam told him. "If anything comes, I'll make sure to let you know."

Frodo looked over at him for a moment, Sam could feel the bright blue orbs staring into the side of his head. "Alright then." Frodo finally consented, shifting to lay with his back towards Sam. "Good night."

"Good night."

It wasn't long before Sam could hear faint snoring coming from beside him and it made him sigh in relief. He was afraid that Frodo would be too frightened to sleep and would stay awake all night, and be too tired to travel the next day. If that were the case, Sam would have to come to the conclusion that he and Frodo would have to rest during the day and travel through the night. That would not bode well with either of them, however.

As Sam closed his eyes, attempting to sleep his way through the night, his thoughts drifted to the things Frodo had said earlier that day. Why had he been so afraid of his father? What was so frightening about him? He surly couldn't be that scary, and he certainly wouldn't harm Frodo just for going outside. Would he? Sam glanced over at Frodo, who still had his back turned to him. There was definitely something strange about Frodo, that was for sure. Sam just couldn't put a label on it. He had no idea. But he supposed he would find out later.

Sleep overcame him eventually, in the midst of his thoughts racing through his head. His last thought was of what would happen in the days to come, when he and Frodo would reach Erebor. What would happen then? Would Frodo return to his tower, or would he remain in Dale? Or would he and Sam have to part ways forever?

The thought resounded in his head as his eyes drifted closed. His dreams once again included a face amongst the stars, but it was still unidentifiable. Perhaps he would know who it was soon enough.

* * *

Sam awoke to laughing coming from his side. He blearily turned over on his side to meet a somewhat strange sight. Frodo was on the ground with his legs tucked underneath him and in his hands was a small bird. He held the bird close to his face to observe it closely, and laughed every time the bird flapped its wings. It looked as if Frodo had slept as well as he would have on a mattress.

Apparently, Frodo was too wrapped up in the bird in his hands to notice Sam wake up, so Sam took the opportunity to observe the other carefully. The sun shined in rays between the treetops, lighting Frodo's hair just so, making it turn a light brown instead of its normal dark brown. His blue eyes were even brighter than they were the past day, as well, if it was even possible. And the light made his skin almost glow around him, giving off light of its own. Sam had never seen anything more lovely.

So caught up in his daydreams, Sam hadn't realized that Frodo had let the bird fly back to the sky where it belonged. "Sam?" He asked curiously, scooting over to the other and waving a hand in front of his face. The dazed look did not erase from his features. "Sam!" he tried again, this time poking him roughly in the shoulder.

Sam jerked back and gasped when he saw Frodo sitting directly in front of him. "Frodo!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" he sat up and looked around, but he saw nothing.

He looked back when Frodo began laughing. "Nothing happened. You were just daydreaming is all. At least, that's what I assume." he looked glanced at Sam through his bangs as he rolled up his blanket. "Am I right?" he asked teasingly.

Sam blushed a deep red and stood immediately, stiffly packing his night things away in his bag. "No!" he defended. "I was just… thinking… of stuff." He explained weakly.

Frodo laughed again. "Sure, you were."

Once they're night things were all packed, Sam and Frodo began treading deeper into the forest. Frodo was amazed at all the things that were around him. He stared wide-eyed at the trees and flowers and animals that they passed by on their walk. Sam felt another pang of pity in his heart, knowing the reason that Frodo was so amazed by everything. How could one spend their entire life indoors?

"Sam?" Frodo asked breathlessly after about an hour of walking. "Do you… even know where we're going?"

Sam glanced nervously around them. They were in an unfamiliar place, that much was for sure, but Sam didn't necessarily think they were lost. But then again, what were they if not? "Yes, I know exactly where we're going." Sam lied unimpressively. "We just… keep following the path."

So they kept following the path. In fact, they continued to do so until Frodo's legs were weary and pained. He begged Sam to stop and let him rest, and Sam would let him, but not for long. "We need to get to Erebor as soon as possible." He would say. And if Frodo was still tired, Sam would help him walk through the thick leaves on the ground.

"Sam, how long is it going to be before we arrive?" Frodo asked at one of their rest stops.

Sam glanced up at the sky. It was nearly noon. "Maybe a couple more days. It's hard to say, I've never been this way before." He answered truthfully, helping Frodo rise from his seat on a rock. "Let's keep going."

So they did.

They walked until they stumbled upon something Sam never thought he would see before his eyes. Frodo, beside him, was gaping at the sight before him. He never knew such beauty existed, and if he had, he never would have thought he'd see it up close.

The place they had reached was absolutely marvelous. It was an enormous white palace, surrounded by the greenest trees and plants imaginable. Flowers of all different colors decorated the palace as well, leaving the place more colorful than the two hobbit's had ever seen. Especially with the sun shining down on it, as the trees had parted to form a giant clearing for the heavenly palace. The palace was gleaming in the light, almost glaringly bright, as the place was only colored white, gold, and the occasional silver.

"What is this place?" Frodo asked in awe. He took a step forward, eyes not moving from the palace as if in a trance by its wonders.

Sam stayed put, frozen in his place. He took a deep breath, breathing in the noticeably clean air and breathed out one word. "Rivendell."

* * *

Sméagol sighed heavily as he finally arrived back at the tower. He had stayed in the nearby town overnight, and hopefully, Frodo had done well on his own. He hadn't meant to return so late. He wanted to return the night before, but he was a bit too full of ale to be walking around at night. He would've passed out in a gutter if he had attempted a walk home while that drunk.

He did feel terrible about it. He hadn't meant to blow up on Frodo like that. He just wanted to keep Frodo to himself. His magical abilities kept him young and fresh. He should be much older than he looks, but because he had Frodo, he still looked like a young hobbit, full of life, but still a bit old. He felt as young as he looked as well.

This was why he never wanted Frodo to leave him. He was Precious.

But the other night, Frodo had just made him so angry he couldn't think straight. He just had the mind to walk out of the room, out of the tower, and through the woods to an old tavern he traveled to when he needed to think. Granted, he never really drank there. At least, he usually didn't. The other night, though… he hadn't stopped drinking. He could barely stand up, he was so drunk. So the bartender gave him a room for the night and he stayed there. When he woke up that morning, the migraine did not do any good for him.

But when he reached the tower, his migraine had not prevented him from noticing that the door was open. And the plank was set up over the lava moat.

Sméagol was in a panic instantly. Someone had gotten into the tower! Or someone had gotten out. Perhaps he had driven Frodo to the edge, just as Frodo drove him to the edge. Had Frodo left the tower in a fit of rebellion? Or had someone… found him?

He rushed forward frantically, crossing the plank bridge as quickly as he possibly could. He didn't bother closing the door behind him, and instead sped up the stairs and into Frodo's bedroom. "Frodo?" he called, bursting through the door to be met with an empty room. "Frodo? Precious? Where are you?" he called again, pulling back the covers on Frodo's bed. Empty. "Where did you go?" He opened threw the bathroom door open. Empty. He pulled back the shower curtain. Empty. "Frodo?" He exited the bedroom and stared at the window.

It was open, as always. The curtains fluttered in the wind and was the only motion in the otherwise motionless room.

"Frodo, my Precious, what have you done?" he spoke to himself, gaping at the window.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the books he had given Frodo a few days ago. Slowly he stepped over to the table and examined the books more carefully. There was a ribbon in each one. Curiously, Sméagol opened the first book to the page that the ribbon marked. He gasped when he looked at the page. "No…" It was a picture of a mountain. The mountain of Erebor. The place where Frodo was born.

He frantically flipped open the other books as well, and each book was marked on the same page. A page that had a picture of Erebor.

Sméagol backed away from the books in horror. Was Frodo catching on to his past? It couldn't be. There was no possible way. Sméagol had refused to ever let Frodo learn of his history. He made sure that everything that could possibly bring back memories was out of Frodo's sight. So what could have drawn Frodo to show such interest in Erebor?

With one last shred of hope in his heart that Frodo was not too far away, Sméagol rushed out of the room, down the stairs and out of the tower.

But he, once again, forgot to close the door.

* * *

"Halt! Who goes there and trespasses on our land?"

"Hey! Let go!" Frodo shrieked as his arms were grabbed and held behind his back forcefully. He struggled his hardest and even kicked out behind him, but it was to no avail. The person holding him was obviously stronger than him, but he continued to struggle.

Sam watched the scene play out with wide eyes. He felt someone reach for his own arms, but before the man could, he ducked out of their way and pulled the frying pan out of his pack. "Let him go!" he shouted, turning to face his attackers. "Let him go, or I'll use this! I really will!"

The attackers, it turned out, were elves. Sam honestly should have seen this coming. He knew Rivendell was the land of the elves, but he didn't think the elves were so… protective of their borders. Apparently, they were protective enough to grab an innocent hobbit from behind and scare him half to death.

The elves laughed heartily as Frodo continued squirming in one's grip. "What kind of damage are you going to do with that, halfling?" one asked mockingly, causing Sam's eye to twitch. "It's a _frying pan_. There's no use in trying to defend yourself with that." The speaking elf turned to the one holding Frodo. "Take him to Lord Elrond. He'll tell you what to do with him. I'll stay and get this one. He'll obviously put up more of a fight."

Frodo screamed and fought harder than before as he was lifted into the air and hoisted over the elf's shoulder. "Sam!" he shouted, lifting his head as much as he could while beating down on the elf's back. "Sam, help me!"

"I'm coming Frodo!" Sam shouted and made to follow the other elf, but the one that stayed behind had grabbed his shoulder.

"I don't think so, Halfling." The elf said, turning him around. "If you want to go after your friend, you'll have to lower the… _weapon_." He seemed reluctant to call it a weapon.

Sam glared at the elf before him with menacing eyes. If he wanted to, he could have swung his frying pan and whacked the elf on the head, but he thought better of it. If he wanted to get to Frodo the quickest and easiest way, he had to let himself get caught as well.

"Fine." Sam lowered his arm back down, and put the frying pan back in his pack, reluctantly. "But I still don't like you."

The elf rolled his eyes, and led Sam to Rivendell's gate. Once they were through, Sam took the opportunity to investigate the palace from the inside. It was still truly beautiful. Even more so than on the outside. But the only thing was that elves passing by stared at Sam like he was a hobbit with two heads. The elf leading him merely pushed him along, ignoring the other elves, as if he and Sam were the only ones present.

"Sam!" Sam looked into the cell he was being led to, to see Frodo clutching at the bars and watching Sam with wide eyes.

"Stay here. The Lord Elrond will stop by to see you shortly." The elf put Sam in the cell beside Frodo's and left without another word.

Frodo immediately moved to bars that conjoined his and Sam's cell and reached for the other between the bars. "Sam? Are you alright?" he asked worriedly, finally reaching Sam's hand and taking it in his own.

Sam blushed, despite the situation at hand, as he looked down at his and Frodo's hands clasped together. Just the simple contact made his cheeks feel warm for some reason. "I'm fine." He answered, giving Frodo's hand a squeeze. "Are you? You were the one that was grabbed."

Frodo smiled. "I'm fine as well." He replied.

Sam glanced down at Frodo's arm, however, and scowled. "You don't look fine. They hurt you." There were bruises on both of Frodo's arms in the place where he was grabbed. They were darkening into a purplish-blue color.

Frodo blushed as well, pulling his hand back and ducking his head down. "It's nothing. It doesn't hurt that bad." He argued calmly as he hugged his arms to his chest. "Honestly, you needn't worry. They'll heal over time."

Sam continued to glower, but he let the subject drop. The elves of Rivendell were not getting on his good side, especially since they hurt Frodo like that. They had just been passing by; there was no proof that they had done anything wrong. They had no right to throw them in prison like criminals, and definitely no right to hurt Frodo.

"Here they are, Lord Elrond." Two elves entered the jail room at that moment making both hobbits glance up from their cells. "We found them on the borders of the palace. We decided to bring them to you before doing anything else."

The brown-haired elf with regal robes draping the floor stepped forward and observed the two hobbits in their cell. His eyes moved from Sam's glaring face and crossed arms to Frodo's ducked head and bruised arms. He turned to the elf behind him. "You told me you wanted me to see them before doing anything, correct?" the elf nodded. "Well then, there was no need to harm this hobbit, was there?" the elf turned a bit reluctant as Elrond held a hand in Frodo's direction.

The regal elf, Sam assumed he was Lord Elrond, kneeled down before Frodo's cage and caught the hobbit's attention. "Are you alright? They didn't harm you too badly, did they?" Elrond asked kindly, to Sam's surprise.

Frodo nodded without lifting his head. He hadn't lifted his head since Sam had brought up the bruises. Sam wondered why this was. But he decided to keep it to himself until the two of them were alone again.

Elrond stood. "Well, you certainly don't seem dangerous to me. What were you doing this far out into the forest anyway? What led you here?" he questioned.

Sam rolled his eyes and glared up at Elrond. "We weren't doing nothing but walking! We're traveling to Erebor and we happened to pass by here. We were going to continue past this place, but we were attacked and couldn't go anywhere." He explained with a hint of attitude.

Elrond smiled despite Sam's slight rudeness. He understood that one could be put in a bad mood when being attacked in the middle of nowhere while minding your own business. It was highly understandable. "Well, I think that we can let them go. They will do no harm. In fact, if I had found them, I wouldn't have done anything." He turned his attention back to the two hobbits while pulling out a ring of keys. "I'm terribly sorry about my elves. They try their best to protect the palace, but sometimes they go a bit too far."

Sam hopped up once Elrond unlocked his cage and stepped out while he unlocked Frodo's. Frodo seemed more timid in his affairs, rising from the floor slowly and keeping his head ducked as he walked out of the cell. Elrond eyed him wearily.

"Will you not lift your head, Halfling?" Elrond asked, as politely as possible with a smile. "I am not going to hurt you. I promise." He assured.

Frodo hesitantly lifted his head, and Sam noticed that his hand also lifted to clutch something at his chest. Sam wondered what he was grasping in his clenched fist, but he again, decided that he would ask about it later.

Elrond's eyes visibly widened when Frodo finally lifted his head. His eyebrows shot to his hairline, and it definitely wasn't a pleasant look for the Lord of Rivendell. It was rare that elves showed much facial expression other than determination and happiness, so it confused Sam greatly when Elrond looked shocked beyond words.

Frodo and Lord Elrond stared at each other for a bit longer, Frodo looking a bit freaked out and confused, and Elrond looking like he had never seen a hobbit before. However, Elrond seemed to notice Frodo's discomfort and erased the emotion from his face, returning to his normal appearance. "What is your name, Halfling?" he asked curiously, eyes shifting quickly to Frodo's clenched fist and back up to Frodo's eyes.

Frodo glanced back at Sam and his grip on whatever was at his chest tightened. "Frodo." He said after inhaling a deep, soothing breath.

Elrond's face hardened for just a moment, before another elf burst dramatically into the jail room. "My Lord Elrond!" his face was stoic and looked like he was determining whether to be worried or calm. "The King Thranduil has arrived."

Elrond jerked back to his feet stiffly, and moved across the room to the other elf. "On what business has he arrived?" he questioned sternly.

"I do not know. Though he requests to see you, I will send him away, if that is what you wish for." The elf responded.

Sam watched the whole ordeal with wide, frightened eyes. Thranduil? Wasn't he the elf that questioned Sam in the woods that one night? What would happen if he saw Sam again? Sam didn't really want the pleasure of speaking to the Elven king once more, and remembered how he planned to find the prince for his own gain. He turned to Frodo, worried suddenly. If his suspicions of Frodo were right, and he was the prince after all, then Thranduil could easily get to him.

"You can't let him see us!" Sam shouted all of a sudden, every eye in the room turning to look at him.

"Why ever not, Halfling?" Elrond inquired smoothly.

Sam breathed deeply and glanced quickly at a highly confused Frodo before staring back into Elrond's deep eyes. "I met him in the woods. He started to question me about… things, and it was in the middle of the night. Plus, I don't think he likes me so much after that." He explained roughly, glancing between the door and Elrond.

Elrond seemed to ponder the situation for a moment, before coming to a final decision. "Alright. If you will take the hobbits and lead them out of the back way, please?" he addressed the elf next to him.

The elf nodded and came in to lead Frodo out of the door. Frodo's eyes met Sam's for a brief moment before he disappeared through the door. Sam was about to be lead out by another elf as well, but Elrond stopped the action. He kneeled down to Sam's height and looked him directly in the eye. "You said you were going to Erebor, correct?" he asked.

Sam nodded, unsure of why Elrond was asking this. Of course, he had said they were going to Erebor, but why did Elrond need to know this?

Elrond nodded back solemnly. "I think I know what you are up to, Halfling. And I will tell you that it could be dangerous. But whatever you do," Elrond leaned in so close, Sam was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable. "make sure Frodo gets to Erebor safely."

Sam was surprised. Why was Elrond interested in Frodo all of a sudden? What had brought it on? And what did Elrond think he was up to? "Um… why is it so important to you, sir?" Sam questioned back, returning to his polite ways, instead of his past annoyed self.

Elrond's expression did not change. It remained hard and unbroken. "I know who that is." He pointed the way Frodo left. "And I know that you know as well. Now tell me, very quickly. Is Thranduil planning something? What did he say to you in the forest?"

Sam thought for a moment, recalling the conversation he and the Elven King had had in the forest. "He was asking about the Prince of Erebor. If I had seen him or not."

"So this was before you found Frodo?"

"What does Frodo have to do with it?" Sam attempted to defend, but he knew it was futile. His suspicions were confirmed in that moment. Elrond was saying things that deepened his ideas, but he knew he was right all along deep inside himself.

Frodo was truly the Prince, wasn't he?

Elrond placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and Sam popped out of his thoughts immediately. "You know what Frodo has to do with it. If Thranduil truly is planning to do something with the prince, then Frodo could be in much danger." He clarified calmly, as if he didn't mind Frodo's dangerous situation.

Sam sighed and nodded heavily. "I know. I'll keep him safe. I promise." He nodded stiffly in determination.

Elrond smiled and patted Sam's shoulder before standing once again. "Good. I would like to hear sometime soon that the Ereborian Prince has returned to his rightful home." Elrond bowed low, causing Sam to do the same out of respect. "I will meet with Thranduil now. Please, be careful on your journey."

And Elrond left, leaving Sam to be lead out the door behind him by an elf that took him in the opposite direction.

It didn't take long before Sam was met with Frodo by the back gate of Rivendell with two elves by his side. "Take this path and when you meet a crossroads, take the right path. It will lead you to Erebor quite quickly." The elves explained kindly, much to Sam's surprise.

Sam thanked them with a bow and took Frodo's wrist in his hand. He looked back as the elves went back into Rivendell and he and Frodo began walking down the path. It turned out that the elves weren't as mean as Sam had thought they were. Sure they had attacked them at first, but then Lord Elrond was willing to sneak them out of the palace to keep them out of harm's way. It was awfully kind of them, Sam thought.

"Sam?"

Frodo's timid voice piping out from his side brought Sam back into reality. He turned and saw Frodo looking at him with those hauntingly beautiful blue eyes. _Stop thinking like that_, Sam told himself in his head. _If this is really the prince, you can't be thinking like that about him!_ "Yes… Frodo?" he hesitated, thinking for a second he should address the hobbit with some sort of title, but thought against it. Frodo didn't seem to know he was royalty, and Sam didn't think he was the one that should break it to him. It should be his parents.

"What did Lord Elrond say to you? When he held you back?" Frodo asked, staring him down innocently with those sparkling blue orbs.

Sam gulped, blushed, and looked away from Frodo for a moment. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't tell Frodo the truth. That was for sure. That was something his parents had to tell him. "He just… wished us good luck on our journey." Sam didn't technically lie. Elrond had wished them luck. Sam had just… left some details out.

"Oh!" Frodo smiled. "Well that was nice of him."

Frodo had visibly perked up after hearing that. He had a slight skip in his step for the next few minutes and he was smiling brighter than the sun itself. He was so happy, it confused Sam greatly. Why had he been so shy earlier with all the elves, but not with Sam around? Come to think of it, Frodo had never been shy around Sam. He was all talk and questions ever since they met. So what made Sam so different than the rest?

Hot blood rushed up to Sam's cheeks in an instant. At his side, he felt Frodo begin walking closer to his side, and loosely intertwine their fingers together. Sam jerked his head to Frodo so fast, he thought he got whiplash. Frodo just looked innocently back at him. "Is… this alright?" he asked, suddenly timid again with a tinge of red on his own cheeks.

Sam instantly nodded his head. "Yeah, it's fine!" he felt he answered a little too quickly. And a little too loudly.

Sam sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, to calm his nerves. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

Elrond sighed heavily. "For the last time, Thranduil, I have no leads on the missing Prince." He lied to the Elven king and prince that stood before him in his council room. "It would be best if you gave up on the search. The prince has been missing for years. There is no telling whether he is even alive or not."

Thranduil sneered at the inferior Lord Elrond. "And what command do you have over me?" he demanded harshly. "I am the King of the Mirkwood realm."

"And this is not Mirkwood." Elrond replied just as hatefully. "You have no power here. If you want information on the prince, you will have to look elsewhere. I'm sorry." He wasn't really sorry.

Thranduil let out a huff of breath and straightened his back. "Fine. We will. Come Legolas, we will exit and continue the path out the back way."

Elrond's eyes widened as Thranduil turned and headed toward the door with his son, Legolas, as his heels. They couldn't exit the back way. That would lead them straight to Frodo. That would only end badly, Elrond knew. Thranduil would risk everything to get what he needed; what he _wanted_. "Wait!" he shouted. Thranduil stopped in his tracks and spun on his heel, watching Elrond expectantly. "Let me get you an escort." Elrond said. He would tell the escort to lead the two royal elves out another way, and not the back way, and they would be lead astray from Frodo.

Thranduil laughed. "Lord Elrond, do you really think I am in need of an escort? I am fine on my own. Goodbye." Thranduil waved and swirled back around, stomping out the door. Legolas hesitated for a moment, taking another look back at the disgruntled Lord Elrond, before reluctantly following his father.

Elrond collapsed back into his chair with a large sigh. He greatly wished that Frodo and the other hobbit (whose name he had not gotten) would be safe with Thranduil on their tail. Anything was dangerous when Thranduil was involved, and Elrond had full experience of that. It was solid truth, because Elrond had experienced it head-on.

He left the council room with a frown on his face, his thoughts drifting to Frodo. Should he make contact with Erebor and tell them their prince was on his way?

_No_, Elrond smiled. _I should leave it to be a surprise._

* * *

Sméagol was making his way through the forest, brushing past everything in his way, like he didn't even notice it was there. His mind was driven on finding Frodo. He _had _to find Frodo. He _needed_ to find Frodo. He couldn't _go on without_ Frodo.

_Literally._

He had gone the opposite way he usually went, thinking Frodo might have wanted to see the elves at Rivendell. It was a good enough guess. Frodo had been fascinated in Elven culture almost all his life. Sméagol had tried to get him to stop obsessing over such things, but it was pointless. Frodo was stubborn sometimes, and that was for sure. He never gave up on his quest to walk out the front door. He had asked Sméagol a million times before Sméagol finally, reluctantly, put his foot down once and for all. Apparently, that was all it took to get Frodo to run away.

And look where yelling had gotten him. Nowhere good, that was for sure.

He stopped abruptly when he heard rustling coming from the path ahead of him. He looked around frantically, before finally jumping into the bushes and hiding as two elves on horses passed on the trail. They were talking to each other. Sméagol couldn't help but hear what they were saying, and his heart froze when he heard it.

"So did you see those two hobbits that were found on the borders today?"

"Two hobbits? I think I might have seen one. Was one of them blonde with brown eyes?"

"Is that what the other one looked like? I saw that one with the dark brown curls and big blue eyes. He was so adorable!" This elf was obviously a woman.

"Were they traveling together?"

"I think so. Why else would they be taken into the city at the same time? I'm pretty sure they were together."

"They were released, weren't they?"

"Yes, of course. Out the back way. I heard they were going to Erebor."

"That's a strange place for two hobbits to travel to."

"Who knows? Maybe they're on their honeymoon!"

The two elves laughed and continued down the path, leaving Sméagol alone in the bushes with bulging eyes and a queasy stomach.

Someone was with Frodo? Frodo was with someone? They were going to Erebor? _Erebor_?

Sméagol's fear and shock was soon replaced with rage. Someone was taking away his precious Frodo, his precious _ring._ He would not allow it to happen. Frodo would be back with Sméagol before either of the two hobbits could reach Dale, and Sméagol swore that if he had to kill, he would.

He felt his head. His hair was becoming thin again. He was running out of time before he would turn into the monster that he truly was without the ring.

Standing abruptly, Sméagol rushed further down the path, searching for where the back path from Rivendell lead out to. He _would_ find Frodo. He _would_.

There was no doubting it. He would have Frodo back. No matter what the cost.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Next chapter, someone stumbles upon the tower, but who is it? You'll have to wait and see! ;D

Also, deepened romance between Frodo and Sam with much fluffiness included. And Sam finally gets some answers in the process!


	7. Unexpected Guests

**Author's Note:** I feel like this chapter took forever to write. But oh well. It's out now, and hopefully, I didn't lose any faithful readers, correct? :D

Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. I personally love it, but that's just my opinion ;)

* * *

Thorin heaved his saddle over Minty with a large grunt. He felt it had gotten heavier over the years, but he also thought that was a strange way to think. A saddle couldn't grow on its own. How would it have gotten heavier? Perhaps he was just getting older? Whatever the case was, he was exhausted from all of the work he had been doing recently. For some reason, Erebor was fairly busy with the mining and Thorin was busy dealing with trade from other kingdoms. He was nearing a day where he would just sigh and go unconscious from the work overload.

Bilbo had been trying to help Thorin all he could. He wanted to split the work between them, but Thorin merely shook him off, saying, "It is my responsibility," and trudging back to his work. It irritated Bilbo just slightly, but Bilbo was able to help in a different way. He made tea to calm his husband's stress and made sure that Thorin was always in a somewhat calming environment when working. Working under stress was never a good thing, and Bilbo didn't want Thorin to feel that overworked.

Bilbo stepped out into the stables that night to find a tired Thorin setting the saddle down on his pony's back. "Are you sure you're up to leaving now, Thorin? I'm sure they would understand if you wished to postpone it until tomorrow." He suggested, placing a hand on Thorin's shoulder.

Thorin sighed heavily and shook his head. "Bilbo, I will go now. This meeting with the elves has been postponed far too many times already. If I don't do it today, then it won't happen at all." He explained, climbing up on Minty's back. "It will not take long on horseback, Bilbo, I promise."

"I know." Bilbo said, petting Minty's muzzle with gentle hands. "I just don't want you to pass out on the road, darling. You've been so tired lately, you need sleep."

Thorin bowed his head. He knew Bilbo was right. He was under so much stress lately that he barely got any sleep. He had chances to sleep, of course, but when he tried to, he just never could. He would toss and turn in his bed, attempting to find a comfortable position, and almost always wake up Bilbo in the process. So even Bilbo was not getting much sleep because of Thorin's stress.

"I will not faint on the road, Bilbo. I will be just fine." He assured with a sleepy smile in Bilbo's direction. "I'm having others come with me, so if anything _does_ happen, they will watch over me. Alright?"

Bilbo sighed and nodded, fighting to keep his droopy eyes open. Thorin laughed a little and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the hobbit's head. "Go back to our chamber, my love. Continue your sleeping. You seem very tired and I hate to be the one to keep you from your rest."

Bilbo nodded once again and yawned largely, causing Thorin to yawn as well. Bilbo held out his arms to Thorin for a hug. Thorin stared down at the hobbit with a fond smile. He was so perfect with his droopy eyes, messy curls, and disheveled clothing. He reminded Thorin of a small child asking their parents for their teddy bear. "Goodbye Bilbo." He lifted Bilbo into his arms and secured the hobbit in a tight embrace. "I love you." He whispered.

"I love you, too." Bilbo whispered back.

Thorin placed Bilbo back onto the ground before taking Minty's reigns in both his hands. Steadily, he rode the pony out of the stables, leaving Bilbo to trail back into the mountain alone. Thorin made sure the rest of his companions were ready and waiting for him outside. Once he saw the few dwarves he was taking with him (Fili, Kili, Balin, Dwalin, and Ori), he lead them away from the mountain and into the forest that would lead them to Rivendell. The journey would take at least a whole day on horseback (hence their leaving at such an abnormal time). Thankfully, the meeting with Elrond would not take long once they arrived, so he would be home soon.

Hopefully.

* * *

Sam and Frodo plopped down onto the fallen tree trunk with relief. They were so tired from walking the entire day, and were glad to find a place to rest. A whole day of walking took more out of them than they had hoped it would. Thankfully, it was already dark, and they had an excuse to stop for a rest.

The two of them sat there for a while, Frodo holding his head in his hand as he willed his breath to catch up to him, and Sam leaning back breathing in deep breaths until his lungs recovered.

It was a very long while before the two hobbits were back to normal again. Their breathing pattern was regular once more and they could take deep, relaxing breaths again. Sam always hated that about walking and running. It took so much air out of his lungs, he felt like he needed a day or two altogether to catch his breath.

He glanced over at Frodo. The other hobbit was staring up at the night sky with an unreadable expression. Sam found this strange. It wasn't often Frodo had such a look on his face. He usually had either a smile or a frown adorning it, but it was never this devout of emotion. Then Sam recalled the way Frodo had acted up at Rivendell earlier that day. Perhaps his solemn mood had something to do with that?

"Frodo?" Sam spoke up. Frodo didn't draw his eyes away from the sky. "Is something wrong, Frodo?" Sam asked again, hoping he would get some sort of response.

Frodo remained motionless, besides the occasional blinking of his eyes. After a moment or two, he reached up again at his chest and clutched at something there. Sam once again found himself wondering what it was. He knew Frodo would never answer, however. At least, that's what he assumed.

Sam sighed and stood. "I'm going to get stuff for a fire. I'll be right back." Frodo still did not respond. Another sigh from Sam's lips and he began to walk away. However, that plan easily went awry. He tripped over yet another tree root and toppled to the ground, landing face first into the grass. Of course, he had tried to use his arms to break his fall, but that just resulted in his left arm getting cut harshly by a part of the tree he was in too much pain to identify.

He groaned in pain and noticed that Frodo had finally been brought out of his trance. "Oh Sam, are you alright?" he shrieked, hopping from the trunk and rushing over to his friend. "What happened?"

Sam groaned again as he was helped up by Frodo. He held his bleeding arm in his hand. "I tripped. It's nothing to worry about, I suppose. It'll heal." He said through gritted teeth, clutching his arm tighter with every word.

Frodo scoffed and ushered Sam back over to the log they had recently used as a couch. "Yes it is! Let me see it!" Frodo reached to pull Sam's arm away from his chest, but Sam was stronger than him and kept it cradled to himself. "Sam, please." Frodo spoke more gently than before. "I just want to help. I know something I can do, but… you have to promise not to… _freak out_." He looked hesitant all of a sudden.

Sam was confused. What was Frodo going to do that would cause him to get scared? Sam couldn't think of anything that could possibly make him freak out over Frodo? "Why would I freak out?" Sam voiced his question. "What are you hiding?" he couldn't believe it, but he was getting a bit suspicious.

Frodo wrung his hands together nervously. "It's… it's hard to explain." He choked out. "Just… please let me help! I promise nothing bad will happen! It will only take a second! Please…" Frodo met Sam's brown eyes with his own.

Sam hated it when Frodo looked at him like that. The other's eyes made his stomach all flip-floppy and his heart pounded just a little bit harder and faster. He couldn't explain what exactly the feeling was, but it scared him. "…Fine…" Sam held out his arm. "Just… be careful, please." He said, with his usual politeness.

Surprisingly, Frodo didn't smile brightly and shout, "Thank you," like Sam had expected. Instead, his face morphed into an expression of worry and doubt. He started taking deep, audible breaths and it was starting to worry Sam. Why was Frodo so worried?

Frodo suddenly inhaled loudly, closing his eyes and taking the deepest breath he had in those few minutes and hovered his hands over Sam's injured arms. As he exhaled, he finally touched Sam's arm right on the wound, and continued to breathe deeply through his mouth with his eyes closed. Sam felt a pinch of pain. He grunted and moved his head to look at his arm. His eyes widened. His wound, as it was held by Frodo's gentle hands, was slowly disappearing. The blood was fading away, and the cut was healing itself as if by magic. Frodo was still breathing as Sam watched his arm stitch itself back together.

Once the cut was finally gone, Frodo opened his eyes and looked down at the arm in his hands. He didn't comment, however. Instead, he looked right back into Sam's eyes once again. Sam noticed that they were fearful, as Frodo slowly pulled his hands back to his own body. He curled into himself in his seat and hugged his knees to his chest, staring forward into the trees.

Sam sat motionless, blinking at Frodo rapidly. It didn't scare Sam, that was for sure. In fact, he was grateful that Frodo healed the cut for him, but it was still confusing. "What did… how did you… what was that?" Sam finally managed, stumbling over his words.

Frodo sighed and hid his face in his knees. "It's something I discovered I could do a long time ago." He spoke softly. "It was when I was a lot younger, and I had fallen down the stairs. My father was out at the moment, so he couldn't help me, and I had cut my leg really badly. I sat there holding it, crying for almost an hour before my tears stopped and I was just breathing really heavily. Then, the pain had gone. I looked down, and my leg was healed. Like magic." Frodo reached to himself and clutched the item at his chest once again.

Sam tilted his head at Frodo. He assumed that since Frodo grabbed it at that moment, it had something to do with what just transpired. He hated feeling so intrusive, but he just couldn't take it anymore. He wanted answers. "What do you keep grabbing at, Frodo?" he asked, leaning closer to the other, waiting for his answer.

Frodo sighed loudly and stared at Sam for a moment, silently pleading the other to let the subject drop. Sam didn't want to drop it, however. He sat and waited. When Frodo caught on, he whimpered just slightly and reached into his shirt.

Sam instantly blushed, but continued to watch as Frodo pulled out a golden chain from underneath his shirt. Attached to the golden chain was a small solid gold ring, plain and simple. Frodo stared at it for a moment, holding it in his hand and then showed it Sam. "My father said that this," he indicated to the ring. "is the source of my power. I've had it since I was a babe, and apparently, if I take it off… I die." Frodo didn't flinch as Sam gasped. He just turned to the ground solemnly.

"Father says that it's a powerful ring. It's so powerful, in fact, that it… draws people to it. It lures others in with its power, and corrupts them with evil, unless the person has a sole purpose for its use. That's why I and my father are not corrupted. We have the ring because it keeps me alive. But I don't understand why I would die if I took it off. Why does the ring have a special connection with _me_? Why couldn't it find someone else!" Frodo dropped his head into his hands.

"The ring is the reason why my father never let me outside. And it's the reason why I was so nervous around the elves." He added as if he could read Sam's thoughts. "My father never wanted me outside for fear someone would see that I had the ring and they would take it from me, killing me. And there was also the possibility that someone could discover I had the same powers as the ring, and they would kidnap me. It was one of my father's worst fears; me dying."

Sam listened to Frodo's story carefully. He was surprised that Frodo had opened up to him so easily. Then something occurred to him. "He found you when you were a babe?" he asked.

Frodo nodded. "He told me I was in the forest crying. He heard me from his home, which was still the tower, and he came running. I was wearing something with my name on it, but no last name. So he just called me Frodo. And I was fine with that. I didn't need a last name to be happy. I just wanted answers." His grip on the ring tightened. "I still want them."

Sam tilted his head once again. "What do you want answers to?" he inquired softly.

"Who my real parents are. Why I have such strange dreams every night. Why I've had those strange dreams for as long as I can remember. Who the people are in those dreams. Why I had to grow up like this!"

Sam watched as Frodo broke down in tears.

"Why does it have to be like this, Sam?" Frodo cried into his hands. "Why couldn't I live normally, like all the people in my books? They all had friends, lovers, _real_ parents. All I have is a magic ring and an adopted father that won't let me be try and be normal."

Sam sat for a moment, awkwardly pondering what he should do for the bawling hobbit. After a while, Sam gathered his courage and pulled Frodo into a tight hug, causing Frodo to immediately nestle his face into Sam's chest. Ignoring the red forming on his cheeks, Sam spoke. "You forgot one thing you have."

Frodo lifted his tear-stained face from Sam's chest to ask, "What's that?" miserably.

"Me."

Frodo's bloodshot blue eyes widened.

"You have me now, don't you?" Sam asked, rubbing Frodo's back soothingly. "I'm a friend, right? You wouldn't have told me all of this stuff if you didn't trust me." Frodo just nodded dumbly. Sam laughed. "It's going to be alright. You're out of that tower now, and you're with me. So everything is fine. Right?"

Frodo nodded dumbly again.

Sam smiled kindly. "Good. Glad you think so."

Frodo smiled a watery smile and wiped at his eyes. "Thank you, Sam." He said, his voice cracking over the words. "This means so much to me."

"There's no need to thank me, Frodo. I'm here with you because I want to be. Nothing else."

They stayed there like that, staring into each other's eyes ignoring that they were in such close proximity with each other. The world was mum around them in that moment. Everything just froze. Their eyes found nothing but each other, as they both leaned slowly towards each other, their faces getting closer and closer.

Until the snap of a twig broke the silence.

The two hobbits stared at each other with wide eyes for a moment before yanking apart, Sam laughing nervously and Frodo just blushing intensely. It was incredibly awkward, that much was for sure.

"Tell you what." Sam spoke, choosing to ignore the moment that just passed. "I'll go… get some firewood and we can start a fire to warm up a bit. How does that sound?" Frodo simply nodded stiffly.

Without another word, Sam shuffled deeper into the woods to gather firewood. Frodo watched him go, eyes following him as far as he could see. When Sam was out of sight, Frodo sighed and hugged himself into a ball.

He couldn't believe he had just blurted out his secret to Sam like that. It was strange, but he felt that he had no free will when he had been speaking. Instead, his brain just listened as his mouth opened and closed, rambling his life story. Then, the tears came, and Sam had hugged him. Frodo was getting a headache just thinking about how confusing everything was. He didn't know why Sam was so different. He couldn't explain it.

"He seems nice. Who was he?"

Frodo's blood ran cold. He hands began shaking. He knew that voice all too well, and the sound of it out in the middle of the woods made him very frightened. He turned his head very slowly to the right. His eyes were met with the sight of his father.

"F-Father." Frodo stuttered out, his brain frying on the spot. "What are you d-doing here?"

Sméagol stepped out of the brush and more into the clearing, toward Frodo. Frodo got a better look when he did. His father seemed somewhat older to him. His hair looked steadily greyer than before and his skin was more wrinkled. He had large bags under his eyes and his back was leaning forward slightly like he had gained a hunch in the past two days.

"You disobeyed me, precious." Sméagol continued to saunter forward as Frodo stood from his place on the fallen tree. "I'm very disappointed in you."

The words hurt Frodo more than he ever imagined. His heart broke in half at his father's narrowed eyebrows and deep frown. "I-I'm sorry father, but…" his voice trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Sméagol sighed heavily and placed his hands on Frodo's shoulders. "Come with me, Frodo." He said in a kind voice. "We're going home."

Frodo yanked back from his father with a gasp. His blue eyes were wide with anxiety. He never thought he would be afraid of his own father. "But… but father, I don't want to go back!" he argued, quite loudly. He continued, ignoring his father's widening eyes. "I… I'm going to Erebor! I've always wanted to go! And, I met someone, and I think…" he glanced back to where Sam had taken off minutes ago with a small smile. "I really like him. And I think he might like me back." Frodo's smile grew at the thought.

Sméagol rolled his eyes and scoffed, causing Frodo to turn back to him while his smile vanished. "Please do not fool yourself with such ideas, Frodo. You'll end up hurting yourself." He grabbed Frodo's arm and began dragging him away from the campsite.

Frodo struggled his way out of his father's grasp and narrowed his eyes slightly. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

Sméagol sighed and turned to face his adopted son. "Frodo, my precious little boy, there is no way that the boy likes you in that sense." He stated factually.

Frodo's face morphed into an epitome of a broken heart. The previous statement hurt him more than when Sméagol said he was disappointed. The initial shock of it all made him sink down to his seat and hug himself in an attempt to feel comfort of some sort. He jumped when he felt his father's hand drop on his shoulder. He instantly shrugged it away and hugged himself tighter.

Sméagol sighed again and sat next to the young hobbit. He lifted Frodo's chin to meet his eyes and spoke comfortingly. "Come now, child. Did you really lead yourself to believe that anything could happen between you and that boy?" his question was met with silence as Frodo moved his gaze to the ground. "Let me tell you something. All your chances with him dissipated the second you shared your _secret_ with him."

Frodo upturned his gaze fearfully when his father mentioned that. "W-What do you mean?" his voice was barely a whisper.

"Frodo, you know what the ring's power does. It _corrupts_. Now that the boy knows about it, he'll do anything to take it from you. He'll take you to Erebor and then turn on you the second your guard is down. All he wants… is the ring."

Frodo stood immediately. His fists clenched and he stared fearfully stared at where Sam left moments ago. "No." was all he managed out. "No, that's not possible. Sam… Sam would never do that to me." He grasped the ring around his neck. "He's… different. I know he wouldn't do that."

Sméagol stood as well and spun Frodo around. "Frodo. He's leading you on." He explained, staring intently into Frodo's eyes, that were glassy and brimming with tears. "Do not do this to yourself. Just come home with me. This boy will be the death of you. Literally."

Sméagol turned to leave back the way he'd come, expecting Frodo to follow. The boy, however, continued to stare into the woods where Sam left. He continued to stare as his heart beat more and more frantically. Finally he spoke.

"No."

Sméagol froze in his steps. He spun quickly on his heel to meet the back of his son's head. "What?" he snarled out with narrowed eyes.

Frodo turned also to meet his father's eyes. He felt a wave of confidence pass over him, but his heart still pained intensely. "I'm not going with you." He defended, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm not leaving Sam. I want to go to Erebor. I'm tired of waking up to see the same ceiling, same bookshelves, same doors, same carpets, same _everything_! I like it out here! I want to stay out here! And Sam promised to keep me safe. I can trust him! You know nothing about him!"

Silence rang out through the trees. Frodo's eyes were frantic with anxiety and bravery. It wasn't a good look for him. Sméagol just stared at his son with defiance. There were flames in his eyes, and Frodo could see they were steadily getting larger. He could almost feel the hot flames burning through his skin.

"That's really what you think." Sméagol's voice was eerily calm and Frodo nodded hesitantly, avoiding his father's gaze. "Well. I suppose I can't stop you then. It's not like I've raised you and protected you all my life." He turned around and strode into the woods. "I hope you have fun with this _boy_ that you just met and could possibly turn on you at any moment."

Frodo got frantic. His rebellious side faded and he soon realized what was actually happening. His father was abandoning him. "Wait, father! Please, I didn't mean-"

"Don't come crying to me when he betrays you and steals away your only life force." Sméagol interrupted harshly. "You'll see that I'm right. He'll rip that ring straight off your neck and you'll drop dead. Don't forget that."

"Father! Father please, don't leave! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! Please father, come back!" Frodo shouted. "I don't want you to leave me! Please!" but Sméagol never turned back.

He disappeared into the forest without one word or one glance back.

Frodo stared after him, tears falling out of his crystal blue eyes. His father left him. He sounded so furious and disappointed; Frodo had never thought he could be that angry. He regretted every word he said while he sat on the fallen tree again and stared ahead of him. He couldn't get the vision of his father's furious eyes out his head. The flames that burst from them burned poor Frodo to the very core.

Frodo hid his face in his arms and cried. Just like he had days before, he cried heavily and loudly, wailing for forgiveness from his father and begging the gods that his father was wrong about Sam. His tears were drenching his sleeves and the ground below him, as he curled into himself, ignoring the world around him. His whole mind was focusing only on his father and his words; those hurtful, spiteful words that his father spoke to him.

But there was no way they were right. Right?

* * *

Sam fought his way through the bushes and trees, keeping an eye out for any spare twigs he could use for a fire. He hadn't wanted to leave Frodo in such a state of despair, but usually, people needed time to themselves before they truly felt happier. He knew Frodo would need some alone time to think about things. He didn't need Sam there to bother him.

But Sam was still astonished by what had transpired back there. Frodo had been so traumatized, so confused and scared and sad, that Sam almost thought it wasn't the same Frodo as before.

Frodo had mentioned his father before, but he never sounded this upset about it. In fact, when they first met, Frodo was talking to him as if he had no problems in the world. His eyes had been lit with mirth and happiness, and he always had a bounce in his step. He had not gotten this emotional about his past earlier.

Frodo must have been bottling it up, Sam thought sadly, continuing to shove branches aside as he walked. Frodo must have been trying to be strong, but he couldn't take it anymore. Sam knew that if he ever tried to bottle emotions like that, he would have exploded a long time ago. But should never have bottled them up in the first place. Sam frowned.

Finally, he reached an area where he saw multiple twigs piled together. His frown transformed into a smile and he shuffled over to gather them in his hands. It turns out there were twelve sticks in total. That was more than enough for the small fire Sam had in mind.

"So we meet once again, Halfling." A voice suddenly spoke from behind him.

Sam froze as he reached for the last twig, his hand hovering just above it. His fingers twitched. He knew that voice. He could never forget it.

He turned around to meet the face of the Elven King, Thranduil. However, his son Legolas was not with him. Sam found this odd. Had the prince been left somewhere by his father, or had he left on his own. Either way, Sam's eyes narrowed tightly. He didn't trust this King any more than the first time they met. In fact, he was pretty sure he disliked him even more.

"What are you doing here, your highness?" Sam tried sounding civil, but it came out a lot more aggressive than he meant it to.

Thranduil sneered and narrowed his own eyebrows further. "Last I saw you, you were on the other side of the forest. Why are you now all the way out here?" he sneered, also attempting civility.

Sam dropped all the sticks he had picked up and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "Begging your pardon, but I asked you first, sir."

Thranduil rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Halfling," he began, as if he was speaking to a child. "Have you not yet realized that you are speaking to royalty? You must learn to control your tongue." He sighed and continued. "And in answer to your question, I'm here because I'm _searching_. You know, the thing you do when something gets lost?" he asked sarcastically.

Sam's arms flew down to his sides and his fists clenched. "I know what it means!" he growled, suddenly forgetting his manners.

Thranduil laughed, and it made Sam want to knock the Elf's crown right off his head. "I was just making sure you did, Halfling." He said mockingly.

Sam felt his face turning red. It was a different kind of red that Sam was used to, though. It was a real red, the color of feisty anger, instead of the pinkish red that came about when Sam was flustered or nervous around Frodo.

Wait. _Frodo_!

Sam had to get Thranduil out of the area. If he found out Frodo was traveling with him, he would kidnap Frodo and do who knows what with him! The very thought of it all made Sam's blood run cold. He promised Frodo he would protect him. He promised himself that he would return Frodo to Erebor. He promised Lord Elrond he would get Frodo to Erebor safely. He had to keep his promises.

"The Prince!" Sam suddenly shouted, automatically regretting it. He had to come with a plan of distraction. And quick!

Thranduil's smile vanished and was replaced with a hardened look. "The Prince of Erebor?" he asked in confirmation. Sam nodded stiffly. "What about him? Have you any information now?"

Sam inwardly smirked when he could hear the urgency in King Thranduil's voice. He had a plan already. "I saw a hobbit run that way earlier." He pointed to some random patch of trees in the vicinity. "He sort of fit the Prince's description, but I'm not sure. It was a long time ago, though, so you might want to search the whole area over there." Once again, Sam pointed to a patch of trees opposite the direction of his and Frodo's campsite.

Thranduil smirked and tilted his head in thanks to Sam. "Thank you, Halfling. I will gather my son from our camp and we shall investigate." Thranduil made to turn around from whence he came.

Sam sighed heavily and slumped down to the forest floor. He held his head in his hands for a moment before shaking it clear of his thoughts and standing once more. It had been a real close call. Sam thought for sure his plan would backfire, but it turns out that King Thranduil is more gullible than he seems.

Smiling, Sam picked back up all the sticks he dropped and even searched for a little more, seeing how it was too dark to see all of them. He managed to get a hold of ten sticks before something stopped him in his tracks.

He heard faint shouting in the distance. It took a second for him to realize it, but the shout was coming from the direction of his and Frodo's campsite. His eyes widened and the twigs dropped from his arms as he sprang up and sprinted back the way he came.

All thoughts of Thranduil rushed out of his head as he rushed back to the camp. His heart pounded frantically. A mantra resounded through his head, 'You promised to protect him. You promised to protect him,' while he jumped the tree roots and ducked the tree branches.

Due to his sprint, it didn't take long for Sam to return to the camp. He instantly was met with a teary-eyed Frodo, curled into himself like he had been before Sam left. Something must have happened, or else Frodo surely wouldn't be crying again.

Sam scuffled over to his friend and kneeled down in front of him, tilting his head to see Frodo's face. "What happened, Frodo?" he asked worriedly. "Did something bad happen? I heard you shouting."

Frodo looked up from his arms and stared Sam in the eyes. "Nothing happened." Frodo's voice was merely a whisper, but Sam could still hear it just fine. "I just… drifted off and had a nightmare. But I'm fine now." Even though he was currently wiping tears from his eyes. "You don't have to worry about me."

Sam narrowed his eyes at him skeptically. "Are you sure?" he asked, hesitantly placing a hand on Frodo's back, hoping he was somewhat comforting. "You look like you were crying. Do you want to talk about it?" Sam was usually a good listener, and he was always willing to listen to others.

But Frodo just shook his head and continued staring at the ground, almost like he forgot Sam was there. He wouldn't lift his head, and Sam wasn't about to force him to do it. Instead, he just sighed and stood from his seat. "Well," he began, remorsefully. "I'm sorry, but I can't make a fire. I lost all the sticks I was planning on using while running over here."

"It's alright." Frodo stood as well. "I was actually about to turn in for the night."

"Oh." Sam muttered as he watched Frodo unravel his bedroll and lay it out. "Well, I guess I will too, then." He grabbed his bedroll. "Goodnight, Frodo."

But the response Sam waited for never came because Frodo was already lying down, curled up with his back to Sam and snoring softly. Sam stared at him for a moment with a frown on his face. He knew deep down inside that Frodo was lying to him, but he also knew that it was never good to pry into things others didn't want to talk about. And since Sam was all about manners, he decided to leave Frodo to his thoughts once again.

As Sam lay there that night, however, he couldn't focus on sleeping. All he could focus on was Frodo and his nightmare and the shouting and Thranduil. It almost kept him up all night, but Sam eventually fell asleep. In his dreams, however, he was still seeing a face among the stars. He still couldn't make it out. It was driving him crazy.

* * *

Sméagol was furious. His blood was boiling with rage, and his heart was pounding viciously. It was all he could hear in his head. That, and Frodo's words of rebellion spoken mere moments ago. "I'm not leaving Sam. I want to go to Erebor. I'm tired of waking up to see the same ceiling, same bookshelves, same doors, same carpets, same _everything_! I like it out here! I want to stay out here!" he has said. It all made Sméagol want to scoff. None of it was true. Frodo would see in good time.

But then it hit him. Sméagol couldn't just walk away. If he was right (which he was) and Sam would steal the ring from Frodo, then Sméagol would lose all the power that kept him alive. If Frodo died, then that would seal Sméagol's fate as well. He would die as well, without the power of immortality. There was nothing he could do about, but get Frodo back and keep him from harm.

He had been an idiot. He was going all about it the wrong way. He shouldn't have let Frodo make his own decision. The second Frodo said 'no', Sméagol should've grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the tower. But his temper had gotten the best of him, and he just walked off without a word of goodbye.

So how would he get Frodo back? Surely that other hobbit with Frodo would be back by that time. It was out of the question that he could go back and get Frodo at that moment. But if not then, when would Sméagol find the time to get him? And how would he gain Frodo's trust once more. He shunned Frodo in an instant and then left him in the woods, crying. What would ever possess Frodo to trust him again?

Suddenly, as he was walking, he heard a rustling in the trees. His eyes grew wide, if it were possible they could get any wider at this point, and he froze mid-step. The instinct in him told him to jump and hide, or get off the path at least, but he couldn't. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute, and his brain couldn't process the instinct fast enough. He watched as an Elf shoved his way through the leaves gracefully.

The Elf found him immediately, obviously because he was standing in the center of the path. The two stared at one another for a moment, the Elf's eyes narrowed harshly, and Sméagol's eyebrow arched upward. The continued to stare until the Elf grew tired of it and coughed haughtily, breaking the silence. "Whoever you are, would you kindly step aside. I'm in a hurry and I don't have time to waste." The Elf did not sound friendly.

Sméagol glared up at the Elf with defiance. He crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. "Why should I step aside for you? What are you in such a rush for?" he questioned harshly.

The Elf rolled his eyes. "It is not your business what I do and do not do. Out of my way." The Elf began walking forward.

Sméagol stepped in his way once again, his facial expression remaining defiant. The Elf rolled his eyes again and tried to step around the hobbit, but the hobbit shifted in his way. They went back and forth like this numerous times before the Elf had finally had enough of it. He scoffed and grabbed the hobbit by his clothes in a threatening demeanor.

"Listen here, Halfling, I have business elsewhere and you would do best to move out of my way." The Elf glowered darkly.

Sméagol stayed calm and raised his eyebrows. "I will move when you tell me what you're doing."

Now, it wasn't that he was just that nosy. Sméagol was merely doing this because he knew there was a possible chance this Elf could run into Frodo, and who knows what would happen then? Anything could, and if Frodo died, that meant that his immortality would cease to exist as well. He would not allow that. He had to protect Frodo at all costs.

The Elf sighed heavily and hung his head. There was a moment of deafening silence before he lifted it once more and started laughing. "You have bravery, Halfling." He smiled. "I appreciate that. I will tell you what I am doing, but you must keep it to yourself."

At Sméagol's nod, the Elf explained his plan. Sméagol was shocked to hear that this Elf was planning on finding Frodo and taking him back to Erebor. But Sméagol could see the look in the elf's eyes. This Elf was not planning on returning Frodo home. At least, not without a reward. The very nerve of this Elf had Sméagol's blood boiling like lava. No one was going to use Frodo like that. No one was going to take Frodo away from him.

But then, the cogs in his brain began to turn. Slowly, a plan began forming in his head. The plan was perfect, he realized. It was a plan that would get Frodo back to Sméagol, get rid of that young hobbit Frodo was traveling with, _and_ take care of this pesky plotting Elf. Sméagol smiled slowly and stared the Elf before him in the eye. He spoke suddenly, hiding the menace in his voice well.

"I think I might have a proposition for you."

* * *

Thorin felt like he was about to faint off his pony, he was so tired. He saw nothing but blurriness ahead of him, and the sounds around him were merely mumbles and low hums to his ears. His mind continued to drift back to his warm bed in Erebor and the fireplace he always found Bilbo reading next to in the evenings. Desperation nagged at his head in Bilbo's voice, telling him to turn around and go home, but Thorin was more stubborn than that. He urged his company forward each time he felt his eyes begin to close.

It was nearing daylight and even the rest of the company was tired. They would ask Thorin if they could take a small rest, but Thorin would decline immediately. The dwarves were getting sick of it. All they wanted was a short nap, but their King would have none of it, even though he was more tired than the rest of them.

Either way, it was a bad journey altogether, and the other dwarves wished that Bilbo had gone with them, just to keep Thorin in line. But it seemed even _he_ was having trouble doing that lately.

Fili was constantly fighting to keep his eyes open and his head would nod off once in a while and Ori would poke him in the shoulder to keep him awake. Fili would look back at the other dwarf and nod in thanks, then minutes later, the process would repeat itself.

The only other thing that kept Fili's eyes from drooping closed was the sight of something poking out of the top of the trees in the distance. He squinted his eyes and leaned forward more on his pony to get a better look at whatever it was. Unfortunately, his eyes were betraying him at that moment. Whatever he was looking at was very blurry and he couldn't tell what he was looking for at all.

"Uncle!" he spoke up, causing everyone to stop in their tracks and look back at him. Fili noticed Thorin had literally jerked himself to attention, and Fili rolled his eyes. "There's something over there, further into the forest." Fili pointed in the direction of whatever he was seeing. "Should we check it out?"

The dwarves followed Fili's finger and looked curiously at the pointed thing poking out of the trees. Obviously, whatever it was, it was very large, otherwise they wouldn't be seeing it. They figured it was worth a minute to investigate, but they didn't really want to waste any time. Unfortunately, Thorin was intrigued by the mystery.

"We will investigate and then immediately get back on the road." Thorin commanded and turned his pony in the direction of the pointed thing. The other dwarves sighed heavily and followed in his lead, their horses trudged through the trees.

It didn't take long for them to reach what they were looking for. Everyone's drowsiness dissipated into pure curiosity, except in Thorin's case. He was now fully alert and cautious, hopping off his pony and unsheathing Orcrist as quietly as possible.

What they had seen in the trees was, indeed, a tower. It was a very frightening tower at that, and had Ori shivering in his boots. The other dwarves dismounted their ponies as well and made to approach the tower with Thorin, but Thorin motioned for them to stay back.

"I will go in." he told them quietly. "You stay here and watch for anyone approaching. I won't be long."

The others were reluctant, but they knew resistance was futile. Thorin wouldn't stop until everyone did what he said. So they stood and kept watch as Thorin entered the tower by means of a wooden plank over a river of lava.

Thorin slowly approached the stairs he nearly walked into. The entrance was very small and did not leave much room to explore, but Thorin did not question it. He went up the stairs as quietly as he possibly could and kept his sword out in front of him. The place looked fairly taken care of, but one could never be too careful.

He reached the top of the stairs and continued cautiously down the hall. He found an open door at the very end and entered it, glancing around the room and making sure nothing was there. When he found the room was empty, he relaxed out of his cautious stance and examined the room he had mindlessly wandered into.

It was a bedroom, evidently. A small bed rested on one side of the wall, and it was quite a mess. The blankets were thrown all over the place and the pillows were plopped on the floor uselessly. Thorin noticed the entire room was a mess. Things were scattered over the floor carelessly and books were laid out open on the tables and floor.

It looked as if someone had been searching for something, last time they were there. Thorin crossed the room over to the books and inspected them. They were all open to pictures of Erebor. Thorin took notice of it and continued inspecting the room. Thorin knew he most likely wouldn't find anything of interest, but he figured it was worth it to search around anyway.

He found a cabinet and opened it, surprised at how almost empty it was. There were many papers scattered about the bottom of it, but on the racks there was a surprising lack of clothes. Thorin noticed there was also a shelf at the top of the cabinet and he thought he saw some kind of bundle on it. Curiosity got the best of him and he reached up, attempting to grab it. That was when he realized everything in the room was… _hobbit sized_.

When his hand felt some sort of cloth on the shelf, Thorin gripped it in his hand and retracted it from the shelf. It was some soft, green material. Thorin sighed and was about to throw it away, but his sharp eyes caught something he didn't expect.

His eyes suddenly grew wide and he stared at the cloth in his hand. With shaking fingers, he opened up the folded cloth and saw what it truly was.

It was his son's clothes. The clothes he wore when he went missing.

It was exactly the same. The same light green, the same knitted cloth, and the same name patched onto the front. There was no mistaking it. This was his son's. His son had been taken here.

But finding the small baby clothes had obviously had a bad effect.

As Thorin stared at the small outfit, the scenery around him morphed. He was suddenly back in Erebor, back in his chamber. And instead of holding empty baby clothes in his hands, he was holding a chubby little hobbit baby with dark curly hair and crystal blue eyes.

=======Flashback=======

_Frodo squirmed and giggled in Thorin's hands as said dwarf held the baby out in front of him, looking him over with a smile on his face. Bilbo was next to them both, smiling as well and laughing as Frodo made grabby hands at Thorin._

"_Ori, you really did a wonderful job with it! You know you didn't have to." Bilbo spoke gently, addressing the other, slightly nervous, dwarf present in the room. _

_Ori, the dwarf who knitted the outfit for Frodo, smiled bashfully. "I just thought the little one should have something personal, with his name on it. It was no trouble, I like knitting a lot." He perked up._

_Bilbo smiled back at him in thanks. "It was very sweet of you, Ori. Thank you very much." _

_Thorin turned the baby around in his arms so it was facing the other two in the room. "Frodo," he said to his son. "do you want to say 'thank you' as well?" _

_Frodo giggled again and began mumbling nonsense and trying to escape Thorin's grasp on him. They laughed and Thorin set Frodo down on the ground and let him crawl around the floor as he pleased, having adventures of his own around the room. _

_Bilbo and Thorin watched as he played with smiles on their faces. "He's perfect." Bilbo said, taking his husband's hand in his own. _

_Thorin smiled down at Bilbo and placed a kiss on his head. "Yes he is. And he's ours." _

======End Flashback======

Thorin felt a tear run down his face, stopping at his chin and dripping to the floor. His memories of Frodo were flooding back to him in one wave of despair, and it formed a lump in his throat. He had tried so hard to block out the memories for so long, but obviously, it hadn't worked. There was nothing that could stop it. He just remembered that his son was gone.

But the sadness quickly morphed into pure rage. He was in the room where his son was taken to after they kidnapped him from his rightful home. Some ungrateful, heartless, worthless bastard had kept his son here for who knew how long. They could still be alive.

_Frodo_ could still be alive.

He gripped the clothes tighter in his fist and rushed out of the tower. His legs were moving of their own free will and he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to. He wanted to find who took his son and kill them with his own two hands. No weapons, no shield, no help; just him and his raw strength.

When Thorin found the _thing_ that ruined his and his husband's lives, nothing would be able to control him.

_Absolutely nothing_.

* * *

**Author's Note:** So the next chapter might take a bit longer because I'm thinking of continuing an old Harry Potter story of mine, as well as writing this one AT THE SAME TIME. No abandon, I PROMISE.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a review if you want! Don't be shy (please)! :D


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